Scraps

Word of the slaver camp had gotten around. It had been a while since Sirius had made use of such things, but now he found himself in need. Soon, Deathbelle would be joining the Armada, with her children in tow. When she arrived, he wished for her to find comfort and relaxation. A new beginning. There was a temporary den they could reside in temporarily, and together they could build their own home. Something that was wholly theirs, together. The temporary den was big enough for Deathbelle, her kids, and of course the handmaiden he would be acquiring today. He needed someone calm and gentle natured. Obedient, and skilled at healing and washing.

He had precious metals and artifacts taken from the Daager Isle. He wasn’t bringing them along with him today, he had simply cataloged them before going on to see the merchandise and enquire at the prices.

He made his way to the cave, and found the scents of the slavers faded, and the place quiet. Frowning, he ventured inside, the scent of decay hitting him. He wrinkled his nose, and his eyes found the body of a dead slave. He moved towards it and nudged the body with his paw, judging those that had left for the mess they had left behind.

What he had expected, was for the bag of bones to move after nudging it. ...alive? he knelt down beside the creature. She was tied by her neck and paw, and her ribs stuck through her tattered coat. She was not in any way or form the type of slave he had come here to purchase. She reeked of desperation, but his pickings were slim. “Are you coherent?”

"Sirius Fatalis"