tales of blue and red

Erys whined pitifully as the slaver struck him across the face, he tried to hide his head but the retribution was already given. The pale man hadn’t moved quite fast enough, but he couldn’t move any quicker. His body was malnourished and suffering, his head was foggy and slow. That didn’t matter to his captors though. He was used as they wished for labor, a punching bag that wouldn’t fight back, or an outlet for baser desires. He was thin though, and his muscles had atrophied. Erys wasn’t truly useful for much, and the slaver showed his impatience in the way he treated him.

He lifted himself to his ragged now off-white paws to try the task again. His chest heaved with every breath he took, his mouth agape as he sucked in oxygen. Silver eyes blinking into focus as he moved on to try and more quickly skin the next rabbit. His paws were clumsy and his movements shaky, he could barely roll the skin off. Again the massive slaver stuck him, but in the rear of the head, sending him sprawling and very nearly knocking him unconscious.

Erystotle didn’t know or even realize what happened next. He expected to be beaten further, but there was suddenly nothing, not even admonishment. He blinked open his eyes, knowing that if he didn’t get to his paws in a hurry he’d be struck down again. Except as he struggled to his paws he found it was not the slaver before him, but a completely unknown man.