Day Two

The first night I fixed the furs and set out a small peace offering of food and honeyed dates. I wanted to apologize, over and over, to fix it, to tell Him, and the Mistress. The night was bright, almost brilliant with the light of full moons to set everything into sharp icy relief. I sat for a long time on the slave wagon platform, watching the world shut down, straining for the sound of boot steps. Steps that never came.

I dozed fitfully, for I have always carried uncomfortable things to bed with me. It was not dreams that disturbed my rest, but the shuffle and play of thoughts, emotions, events. It ground inside of me and turned until finally in exhaustion I succumbed. I could only have slept a few ahn when dawn flipped open the flap and demanded I see it.

I awoke grumpy, frustrated, bordering on angry. My mood was as dark as I wished the inside of the wagon to be. I felt hemmed in already, and I had just woken and had an entire day to fill yet. A day? hell, I had an entire hand or two to ahead of me. I paced, trying to figure out how to occupy myself. Quite the opposite of the comfort I had felt in being chained those several days, I felt more like a scolded child sitting in the corner, kicking the wall.

I did not sleep well that night either.