* * 98th sigil was engraved on your array

'What? How? This doesn't make any sense.' It simply didn't.

I may not have defied all the orders the fat little slave trader gave me, but going along with them just to save my strength shouldn't be nearly enough to get another sigil engraved on my Slave array. 'Was I a hair's breadth away from having it engraved?' In my experience, it didn't work that way. You had to go beyond - push further, achieve something you hadn’t before. In my case, that meant serving my master to even greater satisfaction - or in a new way.

'No, that can't be it.' I froze, eyes locking onto the two lifeless bodies sprawled at the courtyard entrance. 'Did he wish to kill them?'

Dungreen, that deranged bastard, put me and others through unspeakable horrors. But ordering me to kill others was not one of them. He wanted his slaves to survive as long as possible - even when he sent them to subdue my beast self. Except for the nightmares and the overwhelming desire to slay the deranged bastard, killing my fellow pack members had brought me no sigils. Mercifully. Yet, now…

A sudden question, asked in a language I dared say I only understood, broke through my spiraling thoughts. »Did you see?« My mind, sluggish and heavy as if awakened from the quagmire of my nightmares, slowly dragged my gaze to the wagon ahead. The two scalehoofs stood harnessed to it.

»Like a beast.«

»Yes, human beast.«

»Beast killing humans.«

»Humans crazy.«

»Better them than us.«

The poise with which the two scalehoofs handled it all was incredible - something I could only envy. One notification and I broke down despite having [Indomitable Will] calming my mind.

"Come on, get in!" the fighter growled at Elira, the half-naked blue-eyed female reluctant to climb onto the wagon and into the cage on it. When she didn't follow, he smacked her hard in the back of her head with the pommel of his sword, all the while keeping a wary eye on me. There was a lot of anger in those male's eyes. His anger was clear, but so was his fear. ‘I had just killed his packmates.’

"Move your ass, bitch, or I'll shove you in myself," the big female, Bruiser according to the Big Runes, barked. The anger and urgency in her voice did not escape my ears - nothing did. What did escape me was how I got to stand by the wagon. 'Did they drag me here?' It didn't seem like it. I was standing on my own two feet.

"Wench, get in the cage. That's an order," my so-called 'master' bellowed. The collar around my neck yanked at my body with its cursed magic, giving me my answer. Once again, those awful days in the cellar flashed in my mind, the terrible times when I was out of my mind due to the pain. Back then, I didn't need to be aware of the orders - just hearing them was enough. My body obeyed on instinct.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

As such, before I knew it, the collar's pressure and the will of my so-called 'master' had me clambering onto the wagon. Seeing the cage so close up and the two guard females already in it, however, once again brought back some bad memories.

'No. Fuck no!'

»You cravens!« The beast inside stirred, roaring its defiance at the humans.

"Arlo, I hate to remind you that we are running out of time." Ward’s voice cut through the tension as I stalled at the cage door, his annoyance at my so-called ‘master’s’ incompetence clear. "Perhaps it would be wiser to transfer her ownership to..."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Ward," the fat little man blurted, desperation seeping through his voice. He was clinging to his last scrap of worth. As long as he was my owner, my 'master,' he had value to the other male, smelling strangely of flowers, and that mind bitch. Without the leash on me, he was of no use to them. "Korra Grey, you wench, listen. I'm your owner and..."

»Shut up, fat little human!«

The snarl stopped him cold, much to my satisfaction. A slip that chipped away at his remaining value, and he knew it, fearing that these might be his last breaths. 'Wish mine were.’

»B-beast angry.«

»Kill all humans, us!«

They may not have been the scalehoofs I knew from Mr. Hale's [Stables], but that didn't mean I wanted to make them panic. There was no fun in that, not when they weren't my prey. 'Scalehoofs are not prey, period!' I warned the beast. Sweat slicked my skin as the collar's magic strained against me, desperate to bend my will to the craven’s commands. It failed.

"Arlo!" The sharp voice of the flowery-smelling man cut into my ears, sending the little fat man panicking.

"Wench, I am Arlo Rutledge, and as your master, I command you..."

Before he got to the actual order, the big female reached her limit with me and moved. Sure, my struggle with collar magic didn't leave me much room to do anything else, but I had to admit she was fast - for her size. Even at full strength, dodging her fist would have been a challenge. Now? She slammed me so hard I flew straight into the cage.

Of course, my instincts kicked in, and I spread my wings to get my balance. Mistake. A painful one. The cell door wasn't wide enough to accommodate my entire wingspan. CRACK - I smashed my wings on the door frame, breaking the left one.

"Finally," said the flower-scented man, ignoring my howls of pain, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Good work, Branwen."

The hulking female stayed silent, but the little fat bastard’s face flushed with rage. "Ronan, lock the cage and put a tarp over it. Tate, the reins," my pathetic 'master' barked orders, trying to prove his worth. Little did he know that being a pack leader wasn't about how loud you were. "...and you wenches, you better stay quiet, or..."

"No need, Arlo," the fire-wielding male interrupted, his mana wrapping around the cage like a blanket. "A silencing spell. They can scream all they want inside, and no one will hear them."

'Shit...'

Hearing that, my heart plummeted.

With the fighter and the young human male, the workhand, doing as they were told, the inside of the cage plunged into a darkness that snuffed out my last hopes of escape. There was no way anyone on the streets of Castiana could see or hear what the bastards were transporting, no way I could draw attention to us.

»Unless...«

'No! People will just think it's a wild beast they transport,' I bit down on the pain and dismissed the thought of using a beast might—my last trump card.

'Ah, the card.' My hands went to my waist, finding my citizen card still tucked behind my belt. The question was what I could do with it and why the two guard females were looking at me so strangely.