Oro wasn’t sold at market. She was privately exchanged for several gold pieces and a curious bit of elven jewelry. The elf who purchased her didn’t seem to mind her unnerving appearance. He joked with the slaver and taunted him with words.

“You’ve given me quite a deal, Asher! She is a beastly thing now, but look at her hands. Perfect little fingers. I’ve crafted beautiful trinkets from useless ore before… She may yet turn out to be a treasure with the right motivation.”

That was when Oro learned her slaver’s name. Asher. She’d repeat it endlessly in her mind, to ensure she would never forgot it. She burned Asher’s face into her memory, silently promising herself revenge.

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“That’s what we will call you. Your name is now Oro. It means “of ore”. It suits you… Dark, wild, and waiting to be carved into something beautiful – if not useful.”

Asher snorted his disapproval. He had warned the elf. He was absolved, and so he left. His business concluded.

“My name is Berran Callorlaran. You may call me Berran.”

Oro looked down at her tiny hands, clutching her chains with her “perfect little fingers” and wondered what her future held. She then peered up at the taller elf through her thick, dark lashes, as she dared not look at him directly. He noticed a small glimmer of… could that be gold?... in her eyes.

She flinched when he lightly patted her head and wordlessly encouraged her to follow him. Her tiny hooves clopped delicately beside him, as Berran led her into what appeared (to her) to be a wealthy residence.

“O….oro….b….berran…” she repeated quietly, learning the new names. Berran either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.