A Winter’s Wrath

Cold. I think I have never been as cold as I have been these past several hands. It is not only the weather that chills me to the bone, but something more. There are others, like me, huddled in a corner of this wagon, sharing what warmth they have. Or not so much like me. I am different, for no collar has yet been thrust around my throat. I am a captive, not yet a slave and even though my freedom is elusive, I still hold hope that such shall come.

We’ve made many stops along the way of a journey which for me, seems to have no end. Girls are bought and replaced with new, though I am never set out for auction. It is as if they can sense something different about me, as if I somehow frighten them, even before my ability is known. That and the fact that I did whisper small curses when first I was caught. Had I thought of that sooner, Charm might not have been taken away from me.

I think of my daughter constantly and I wonder if I will ever see her again. What new and wonderful things has she done since we’ve been separated? Too many, I’m sure, but who do I have to blame save myself?

No one.

The winter wind rips through the cracks of this covered wagon, and though I have been allowed to keep a single robe and my cloak, the items are quickly wearing thin from everyday use. Soon I shall have nothing but threads to protect me from the elements, the leers, and the groping hands that occasionally find a way through a rotten board.

I do not speak to either guards or slaves, silence the only thing that I am yet able to control, but I’m sure even that shall be taken from me soon, for I have heard the men talk. Soon I will be a vulgar attraction of destiny. Once again, I shall read for a copper, only this time, it is coin I can not keep.

I am cold and for the first time in my life, very afraid.