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It was a beautiful afternoon, not a single cloud in the vast skies; the air was warm, soothing and peaceful. My sisters and I were given leave of babysitting our younger siblings and sent out, by the older women of the tribe, to gather chokecherries and other wild fruits from the groves near the stream which cut through our lands. Delight filled our leather clad frames as we gathered our baskets and headed out, laughing and teasing as we always do. I was only 9 summers old, the second oldest in my family. My older sister was 14 summers and my twin brothers were only 6 summers old.

Our laughter drifted through the air as we gathered the dark, almost black berries, sharing stories about which young men were turning into fine warriors and which ones we dreamed of claiming us as their mates. My thoughts always ran to one brave in particular, I think he was about 16 summers old. I'd often catch myself staring in his direction when he and the other young men were racing their kaiilas or playing stick and ball. Of course, I wasn't the only girl who'd found him of interest. Several of the older, well-developed girls were also trying to get his attention. It saddened me, because here I was, a girl of only 9 summers, not even developed. I doubted he would ever look my way and with the coming of the following events, I would never have the opportunity.

The attack was so sudden, our scouts were divided, hunting, patrolling and working in the camp. Screams filled the air as we realized our camp was under attack. The shrieks of women, wails of children made us hide in the grove, clinging desperately to each other, listening to the slaughter of our families. Smoke billowed into the air as our teepees were burned; kaiila pens were broken, sending the herd into the wild. Terrified we dared not move, not wanting to give our location away. The older girls circled about the younger, pulling our skinning knives from belt pouches, ready to try and defend ourselves.

The screams died down, only the mournful wails drifted from camp, yet we didn't move. An eternity seemed to pass and finally, my older sister bravely crawled from the grove. Her shrieks of terror were the last things I remember, for they ended as suddenly as they had begun.

I awoke, cold, naked, frightened and in an unfamiliar place with a smooth hard stone beneath me. Slowly, still groggy from earlier, almond shaped eyes snapped clear, looking around frantically for my sisters; only to see more shiny stones with other girls in them. I tried talking to them, but they didn't reply, only motioned for me to be quiet. I hit the odd looking stones before me until my hands ached, trying to break free, wanting the comfort of my sisters, wanting to be home.

Then I heard voices in a strange language, rough male voices and laughter, cold, cruel laughter as a group of them entered the room. The other girls shrieked and begged, I listened, not understanding a single word. One stood before my stone containment, which I later learned was a metal cage, my arm shot between the bars as I tried to hit him. He turned swiftly, seizing my wrist and laughed. It hurt, his grasp was firm and I hissed at him, trying to break free, which only made him laugh more. He pointed at me with his free hand, said some words I didn't understand, causing the other men to laugh as they inventoried their goods.

He finally let me go and I tried again to strike at him, wishing I had my skinning knife. He called me those words again and just smiled. I spit between the bars at him, the anger and rage boiling my blood, masking the terror inside, the longing to see my family. I remained in the cage for several days, cramped, cold and hungry, but each time he visited, the rage gave me strength to fight, and each time, he would call me those words, smile and leave. His voice was almost soothing, but the rage inside made them just words.

I don't know how long I remained in that cage, I'd seen many girls come and go, until one day; the door was opened for me. Slowly, I crawled out, my legs weak from being cramped up, my body filthy, hair matted, dark eyes that once shone with life, dull and listless. He lifted me so easily in his arms, ignoring the dirty mess I was, there was no fight, no struggle. I drifted in and out, weak from fighting, the sorrow inside taking all my energy, denied food in attempts to break the wildness. He took me to another room, sparsely furnished and set me on the floor. He spoke kindly to me, yet I could not understand a single word.

He bellowed an order and a girl appeared then ran off, returning with a basin of steaming water and several cloths. Her touch was gentle as she began cleaning me up, I lie there, limp, almost lifeless as she cleaned my body. She left several times to change out the dirtied water, until she dunked my hair into the basin to wash it, talking gently to me. He sat there, the entire time, simply watching and giving orders to the girl, to which she immediately obeyed. Finally, she was finished, my body clean and hair combed, he gave another order and she returned with food, considering I'd not eaten in days. She left the room and I'd never seen her again, he crouched near my, placing the food close as I stared off into nothingness.

Days, months passed and I remained with that man, learning the language he spoke and learning, the words he spoke to make the other men laugh, "little wild cat". Different girls came and went from his room, I don't remember their names, but they all moved so beautifully, were so obedient to his commands. He never touched me aside from a few pets on the head, and a caress to my cheek. I don't know how long I had been there, I learned from observing the other girls who came, how to move, a few more words here and there, even to begin reading and writing. I would ask them, where I was and none would reply except for "Master's room".

Years passed, I blossomed into a young woman, my hair, shiny and black fell to the backs of my thighs, straight as a cascading waterfall. My skin, the colour of rich, deep caramel was flawless and silken smooth. My body, yes, I had finally grown to the image I had once envied. Rounded hips, lush and inviting; long , firm legs, taut belly and ample breasts, tips the colour of fine, rich chocolate. My lips were naturally dark, a rich, crimson colour, but it was my eyes that mesmerized him the most. He would cup my chin and just gaze into them, he said their shape, was breathtaking and I didn't understand what he meant. They were almond shaped and slightly angled upward, giving them an exotic look, my irises were such a dark brown, they appeared black, rimmed with thick, raven coloured lashes.

One day, I was finally taken from "Master's room" and led out into the City. I was terrified, the noises, the people, so funny looking and pale. They walked by me, ignoring me as if I didn't exist, considering I'd been kept in his room, naked and free, it didn't bother me to feel the sunlight on my flesh. He led me to another building, talked with a few people and I was ushered before them. Standing there, shaking as I, unknowingly, was being appraised. I trusted him and remained still as they walked around me, took measurements and such. Finally, he was given a pouch and stood before me, cupping my chin and smiled softly, "my little wild cat" and left.

From then on, I was sold, gifted, traded, and stolen, my name changed each time until I didn't even know my own name. I never knew his name, but remember his kindness, his smile and those simple words he called me. I was opened, forcefully, cruelly and violently then never touched again. Some homes were good and some, I just wanted to die. The last home I remember, the Master owned many slaves, a good sized chain and put me at the front, but never touched me, I was simply his trophy. I served as I'd been taught, I danced from observation more than training and I longed to be pleasing. The drive inside insatiable, I did everything he asked of me, yet he never touched me. One day, he purchased another slave and I was shoved to the end of the chain. I grew silent and distance until he finally just let me go, not a word, nothing.

I wandered for some time, surviving in the wild, trying to find my way home, avoiding the Cities, living off the lands. I longed to find the Master who captured me, but I never knew the City in which he lived. My travels led me far, unknowingly, from my homelands. I killed to survive, fashioning a cloak from the hides of the animals I killed for food. I pushed my memories back so deep, only fleeting images of my family came and went, and glimpses of his face faded from view.

One night, I found myself in a cold, foreign land. Weary and seeking shelter from the elements I stumbled upon an earthen structure. Creeping around the outside, I was seized by a huge man and taken inside. Fear blossomed in me as I heard the deep voices and laughter within, and I was thrown to the floor before a man sitting in a chair, on a level higher than the rest. I trembled in fear, my hand sliding to the stone skinning knife I'd fashioned, only to find it gone. I was seized by the man in the chair, iron locked about my throat and my flesh burned with a brand.

Again, out of my element and in a strange land, I struggle to survive; struggle to learn of this new place. I serve, but something inside is missing and I long to find that missing piece.

I learned, the man I was thrown before was Jarl Perrin RedTarn.