Chapter 196: The Slave Mansion
The wagons rolled onward for several days, relying on the magic of the accompanying guards to sustain the cattle and slavers. The constant jostles and bumps were taxing, slowly wearing away at my muscles and joints. Each time I went to rest my head, the wagon pitched into a deep rut, jolting me against the grainy wood planks.
The days were cold, and the nights colder, but the slavers pressed on without thought for the cargo. The constant shivering was exhausting, and I often awoke to find tears streaming down my cheeks, weeping from the frozen ache of my fingers, toes, and tail. During the day, my thoughts were slow and lethargic, wandering through perpetual mires of sorrow and hopelessness. They didn’t give us nearly enough food to sustain ourselves, and vicious hunger cramps soon became a constant companion.
Surprisingly, it took an entire week for the first slaves to die. Light gray clouds rolled over the caravan one early evening, accompanied by a breezy chill. The first flurries fell shortly before dark, drifting into my cage and settling on my long, matted hair. By the time night fell, the ground was white, covered by a thin veil of snow. It covered the horses’ tracks and filled in the wagon ruts, erasing all signs of our passage.
I sneezed, huddling against a corner, as far from the windows as I could manage. Every gust of wind sent fresh flakes spinning through the wagon, which melted almost immediately, condensing on my body like dew. My extremities tingled with a frozen numbness, especially my tail, which throbbed no matter how tightly I hugged it to my chest.
The snowstorm rose and fell, at one minute a gentle, picturesque scene and the next a furious blizzard. The weather of Enusia was often erratic, but this was my first time wholly exposed to the unpredictable elements. My spells had always provided ample protection against magical cold and heat, much less the natural, relatively tame dangers of the natural world. Being forced into the harsh winter temperature without them brought my life to the brink, stretching me in such a way all I could think of was the bitter cold, and how death would be a mercy.
The other slaves packed together, sharing their body warmth. Everything was still, muffled by the drifting snowflakes. Even the rumble of the wheels and the soft whinnies of the horses was subdued, lost in the endless fields of white.
The storm broke around dawn. I lay slumped against the corner, knees tucked against my chest, sobbing until the soldiers knocked on the cage, peering in to see if I had made it. Fine droplets of ice coated my hair, clothes, and skin, but I was alive. Barely.
"She’s still breathing!" a soldier cried.
The captain sighed in relief, looking as though his heart had stopped for a moment. He ripped his cloak free of his back and tossed it through the barred windows.