Whether this day started better than the last was debatable.

Sammy didn't wake up to a show of violence in an alien world. She just woke up to a shadow of pain surrounded by alien beings in an alien world.

In fairness, they weren't that alien. Most of the slaves and slavers were human even. The rest were roided-up versions of animals that she knew. Most walking on two feet. She didn't know if bipedal movement went along with increased intelligence or if it was a societal thing. Most of the [Slave Master]s look human, so maybe she lucked out in being human here, besides the whole slave thing.

The lean-to was nearly empty of slaves by now. The arm that was her pillow belonged to a dog-man. His white fur bristled, likely due to weeks of collective grime, but beat out a pile of leaves. The arm ended in a paw that hovered just outside of her vision. The arm was strong, and she was a bit embarrassed to inspect the rest of her nighttime companion.

To her other side was just a human. She wondered how many weird creatures she would see. She wondered if she'd ever get home.

Not helpful. Not helpful. Not helpful.

She needed to figure out what was going on, and she needed to get out of the slavery business. At least this end of it. No, all of it. Maybe she could make a good [Slave Master]--at least better than YoungVoice--but she was not a fan of the whole thing even before her day-in-the-life.

Since getting up seemed to be the thing to do, she followed suit. As soon as she labored herself up, an event in itself, PillowArm stood up. He had been waiting for her to get up, which was considerate beyond measure.

"Thank you for the arm," she said after some hesitation. "I'm Sammy. Who are you?"

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She turned to PillowArm. He stood up to her chest with dark eyes looking into hers. The snout was hard to get over. It seemed like he was wearing a mask that broke as he spoke.

"Kindness given is goodness created. I am Thebian." His voice growled out his name, but otherwise, his words flowed.

"Hello, Thebian. How long have you been a slave here?"

What the fuck did she just ask? That just slipped out. What a terrible question. The first person--dog-person--she met, and she shoved her foot straight down her gullet.

To her surprise, he laughed. It started in his throat, and she initially thought he was growling. These non-humans will take some getting used to.

"I am no [Slave] daughter of Elis, but a [Paw Priest] of the 6th way." He looked immensely proud of that last part. He may be a bit of a braggart, but a priest seemed perfect to help her.

But instead of wringing out all the life-giving information from him, she asked, "why are you here if you aren't a slave?"

"I may be a slave, daughter, but a [Slave] I am not."

The second time he said 'slave,' it had a ring to it, like a deep bell that can be felt in your chest but not heard.

She noticed YoungVoice walking towards her, and she knew that her mental worldbuilding time had ended.

"What are you still doing here?! We need to leave soon. Eat." She shoved me towards the center of camp, where a line had formed near a massive pot. They were giving out something that was hopefully edible. She would find out it was barely so.

YoungVoice was definitely stressed. It seemed the fuck-up of nearly killing her had made an impression. That or Bootman was a head honcho around these parts.

As she stood there musing, the pain started to slowly creep back. It wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday, but it had disappeared so extensively that she forgot it even existed. This day was going downhill. She looked back for Thebian, but he wasn't in sight. She hoped she'd see him again.

Looking around, she saw about 200 hundred or so slaves and about a dozen slavers. It seemed like a good revolt ratio, but she would have to find out more before trying anything.

She shuffled forward in line, and the voice boomed in her ear.

Class [Slave Priestess] Achieved.

She did not know what she would be a priestess of, but the point was moot when she had to be a slave version.

Reject, she thought.

Class [Slave Priestess] Rejected.

The line moved forward again.