[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Haven had not gotten any sleep, or very little sleep, that night in her temporary cell. She eventually stopped trying to do so, and just sat in the dank cell waiting for the morning to come. Haven was still in shock of her being picked. Every year she had watched the slaves get chosen for the hunt, and every year Haven had not been chosen. It never even crossed her mind that she should or would be chosen.

Sometime before dawn, two guards burst into Haven’s cell. Before she could say anything and before the guards even said anything, one of the easterlings flicked a dusty black scrap of fabric from his pocket. The man blindfolded Haven and grabbed her arm, shoving her out of the cell. Darkness swept Haven, but it didn’t bother her; she had played blindfolded games often with Jamilah and Jovanna.

Haven let her steps loudly ring down the corridors she was being led along until the clip-clop of her pounding feet was muffled by the ground outside. Haven lost track of wherever the guards were leading her, and ultimately decided that she didn’t care where she was going.

A dull roar became louder and louder as the guards neared their destination. The people of Nurn had excitedly showed up to watch the prey scramble off, only to be caught and killed. Haven’s head turned every which way as she tried to keep track of every sound she heard, and one annoyed guard used the palm of his hand to smack Haven on the back of her head.

“Hey, watch it!” was all Haven could reply with, for she was used to the leniency of the palace nobles, not the harsh ways of the outdoor overseers. Haven was shoved into a spot in between two people, probably fellow slaves. Before Haven had time to say something or blurt out a question, something was shoved into her hands. What is this? She wondered, but didn’t bother to guess.

Seconds later, someone roughly ripped the blindfold from Haven’s eyes, and Haven stumbled back as into her vision came several hundreds of Easterlings and Slaves alike in a great mass of viewers. In a line carefully made straight in front of Lord Ekatran, were the chosen ones. The first girl who had been called stood next to Haven, though Haven didn’t even think to remember her name. Haven was good with remembering faces, not names. The woman on her other side was an elf, which surprised Haven a little.

“You are the quarry for the great hunters of my kind,” Lord Ekatran spoke loudly enough to overcome the splitting sound of the crowd. The people fell silent as he began to speak, and watched with the awe and wonder that captivated them each and every year at the sendoff. After his calming of the people, Ekatran strolled down the line of slaves, looking at each one carefully, remembering what they look like.

“These are the chosen, my great hunters. They will accompany me on my hunt, and you will be their quarry, and mine,” Ekatran continued, in a booming voice that almost sent Haven stumbling.

“You have served well, and you are chosen now to be our prey. Run as you might, you will not escape your doom.” Ekatran began to bore Haven, but the girl seriously began to wonder if that meant it was time to run.

“You have six hours!” Ekatran bellowed, and at this the overseer behind him or her shoved each slave forward.

“I guess this means we go?” Haven wondered aloud, looking confused towards the other slaves.

[ April 27, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]