[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel felt Desolyn looking at her and slid her eyes to the side to return the other slaves gaze. Desolyn had a quietly gleeful expression on her slim face, and Fionel knew she was wearing the same expression. She wrinkled her nose slightly, indicating she felt the same way, and Desolyn grinned at her. This was all done in minute movements, so none of the easterlings would notice. They neednt have worried though; all the easterlings were now engrossed on who of them would be picked for the hunt. Thousands of eyes were fixed on Ekatrans hand as he drew out the piece of paper and unfolded it. There was more chance to this; unlike the picking of the slaves, not all the hunters were chosen. Possibly three out of the six would have been pre-selected, but not all.

"Ranchard!"

Fionels grin faded instantly as Ekatran said the name, her eyes widening.

"Oh, please, by the Gods, please not Ranchard..." She murmered. She looked at Desolyn, and saw a look of horror on her face as well; the name of Ranchard was as infamous among the slaves and Desolyns own was among the easterlings. Fionel clenched her teeth together tightly, hoping, praying that there could be twe Ranchards...

But no. She saw the young man swaggering up to the front, his cold eyes gleaming maliciously. She closed her eyes. She knew what he was like, had seen the sort of things he did. The hope that had been there, the chance of escaping was still there, but she could see how slim it was...and could imagine how bad things would be if that hope didnt survive, if this hunter caught them.