Setting Sail

She was being made to follow him, for one of the first times being able to leave the confines of his den. Cierzo felt the weight of the collar around her neck as Cifarelli tugged at it, which she only just realized was… different. New. She had grown accustomed to the feeling, so to have a different sensation wrapping around her throat to remind her of her place… well, of course she would notice. Still, the woman tried to keep her wits about her. She was a slave, so her head was not held high, but to stay true to her upbringing she did not point her muzzle to the ground either. That was unattractive. At least that’s what her mother always said. So, Cierzo always keeps her gaze just below any given other’s. To be safe.

As they arrived at their destination, she was frozen with Cifarelli's heated warning in her ear, which sent a dreadful shiver down her spine, reminding her of the consequences of disobedience. She nodded obediently, her gaze flickering between him and the rest of the group she was to follow.

With a final glance back at Cifarelli who was off on his own task, she fell into step behind the others, her movements careful and measured. She knew better than to defy him, to risk his wrath. And so, she followed this group she knew so little about – that could end her life at any given time.