Worthless Pink

I finally went and picked up my slave .. the girls kicked her out of the wagon and I had to chuckle as she fell at my feet. She does not appear to be much ..a little thing. Soft and pink .. used to easy living. Now she probably does not think she has been accustomed to easy living. But a free Tuchuk lives a much harder life than any city slave. Let alone a Tuchuk slave. That is just a fact. What makes it worth it is the rewards. The depth of living that you get from the life that you lead. The difference between a constricted breath and a deep .. fresh-air filled one.

She seemed a little surprised that I pressed her further than her vague .. colorless answers to my questions. No one .. is that pathetically boring. She finally filled in a little .. enough that I was satisfied and moved on. It is clear she is used to moving through people without disturbing the flow of things too much. Like a fish through water .. few ripples. The fewer ripples the less she is noticed and the more she is allowed to live as she pleases.

The plains have a habit of stripping away all those easily manufactured masks. You can not stand in the grass and stretch your arms out .. looking around you at nothing but horizon. Not a thing to break it up .. the same in every direction .. seeming forever ... endless. You can not be that small within a vast greatness without being reduced to who you really are.

I gave her a few simple tasks. She was to eat after me. From my bowl or plate. Collect the dung chips to keep us warm or sleep outside in the cold. She was stripped of her meager silk clothing and allowed only the warmth of the furs in my wagon for the first couple of days but to avoid permanent damage from frostbite she was given the usual slave attire of a Tuchuk slave plus a fur jacket .. boots and gloves .. and a little fur cap with flaps to pull down over her ears.

I cared little for the gifts I gave my slave. What had been carefully chosen for others were handed out for survival. No longer did I have the hopes for anything from anyone. There were no big plans .. no dreams made flesh. If I looked for anything in the days to come it was perhaps to notice if she survived or not.

She was not only a slave .. she was a dweller slave. Pathetic soft and pink flesh susceptible to the harsh Tuchuk plains living . She was nothing special .. nothing about her stood out... save her eyes. She meant nothing to me .. and that is how it should be.

She was nothing but a worthless pink.