Sorry for the wait. I know that it is not an excuse, but I've been busy at work. I'll try better to manage my time in the future.

Chapter 7

"I don't to walk anymore. I want to go home!" My companion complains and I sigh.

I wasn't too far now—just a day (a day!) away from home. Why did this kid have to go and get home sick? Didn't she knew I had better thing to do than chaperon her? I knew I should have left her. I knew she would slow me down, but I didn't listen to gut when I should have. Well, no good deed goes unpunished, right? So, should I help her out or ditch her?

I glance at her. Her clothes are old, and worn, and thin—certainty not warm enough for winter, nor durable enough for longer use. I may as well get her something new. Why not? Maybe it would make her punishment more bearable upon her return when the Warden extracts his vengeance upon her frail body with the whip...

And who knows? Maybe one day, she'll lead a rebellion and save the others.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Alright. Come on, then." I say and her eyes go wide with surprise.

She had expected me to attack her or at least yell at her. She had anticipated violence, not acceptance. My heart sinks a little but I don't allow it to show on my face. I buy her more clothes, a bag, and food. Taking her carefully by the hand, I lead her to the train station and buy her a ticket. And this is how it ends: after a taste of freedom, the pup will go whimpering back to the cruel arms of its abusive master rather than endure the unknown.

"Good luck, little one." I whisper and she smiles sadly. She knew what was waiting for her, of the pain she was going to endure. But still she went. Like a bleating sheep, she walked to her doom and batted not an eye.

But why did I care?

She was not my family. Not my property. I had no right to worry for her...but this doesn't stop me from doing so. It's foolish. Stupid. But I can't stop myself from watching as the train screams and then jolts forward. My eyes continue to track its movement even after it fades entirely from both sight and hearing. People mill around me and complain loudly about the heat.

I sigh and wait for my own train. When it arrives, I step on and keep my head down. The ride is uneventful. I talk to no one and remain invisible among the sea of people. When it screeches to a stop, I slip out the doors and jug onto the cobblestone streets, glad to be out of the suffocating closeness of tight corridors.

"Alms. Have you alms for the poor?" An old woman stumbles towards me with outstretched hands. I stifle the desire to laugh at her; i barely had money for food much less anything to spare for charity! But I shake my head at her politely before starting to walk away from her. Her weathered face crumbles a little.

"Sorry," I reply.

The streets were filled with the poor and the dying. There would never be enough money to save you, lady. You could beg all day but once dusk falls, you'll still be sleeping in that alley-it didn't matter how much cash you had in your pocket. You were your own prisoner...and the one person you can never escape is yourself. That was a lesson I knew only too well.

An old gentleman walks past, but his wallet finds its way into my pocket without him ever noticing. I just smile a little to myself and walk off slowly. By the time he notices, I'm four blocks away and much richer than I had been before.

…

Khan walks through the abandoned house, or, at least, what remained of it. The walls were covered in ash and soot. Much of the roof had either collapsed inwards or burned away. Many of the stone walls had crumbled inside the home covering the floors with heavy bricks. It was no wonder they had thought the children dead. How could anyone have survived something such as this?

Death would have been preferable to the thought of them burning alive. The woman at the school had been right: it was a tragedy. But how had they lived? Maybe they weren't in the home.

Maybe they knew.

They might have been in the forest, watching from a safe distance as their home was destroyed. Maybe they had screamed or cried but why not help their parents? And did someone plan this attack or was it an accident?

Khan didn't know and he was beginning to wonder why he even cared. What was one slave's past to him? Why did he care if he never saw her smile or her green eyes light up with joy? Why did he care if he knew that she would never call his land home…or enjoy his company…?

No. It didn't matter. It didn't. He was curious, that was all. He was curious and she was human—barely an evolutionary level above worms. She was nothing and meant nothing to him.

His hand smooths dust away from a cracked picture frame. The glass was still mostly intact with a large crack burning through the middle of the image. And there they were. All four of them. Adva was smiling and looking up at her sister Meira who laughed at the camera. Her father stood proudly behind her with his hands resting lightly on her should while her mother looked adoringly at him. They looked happy not troubled. They looked harmless not threatening. Had they been targeted? Assassinated? If so, why?

Khan walks outside the structure and frowns. The home was small and functional. It rested it twenty grassy acres with a rickety barn, an overgrown garden, and rusting farm equipment. A dilapidated chicken coop ran beside the house and a green pond blinked at him as the sun danced between the clouds. They had a respectable around money it seemed but it didn't appear as if they were rich. So, greed wasn't a likely motive.

He looked again at the home.

The roof. What was wrong with the roof? If he didn't know better, he would have said that it had fallen in because something had crashed through it and then exploded…but the woman had said they were killed in a fire. Not an air raid. Someone would have heard the engines of the aircraft as it descended low enough to strike…but no one had.

Because no one was here.

These people lived miles away from town. Of course it would have been labeled as a fire! No one would have ever seen the attack! But they knew! They knew it was coming! The parents must have sent the children away or…or they snuck out to explore or something, accidently saving their own lives! They would have seen the missile drop, heard the explosion. That's why they said nothing. Why poke a slumbering monster? If the enemy thought they were dead, who were they to correct it the error? After all, the instinct of self-preservation is a strong one…as are Meira's protective instincts.

He sighs.

She will never give up. He sees it now. He could take away her sister. He could torture Meira and break every bone in her body but she will always try to flee from him and race towards freedom. Towards wide and empty spaces. The instinct was woven into the very fiber of her being and then reinforced by tragedy.

He frowns sadly. Whatever was he going to do about his new pet? If it couldn't be trained, then what was the point in keeping it alive?

Well, he'd find a new way…maybe he could get her to like him…then she'd want to stay with them. If he helped her find her sister…yes…it was crazy enough the work…

Sorry, I know this chapter was a little slower. Things'll be getting better soon (I think. I have it planned out in my head, but it always changes a bit when I put it down on paper, I don't know why. Guess I'm just weird that way). Well, tell me what you think.