Moral to the Story

Her eye went from the words on the page to his face. She wanted to know, badly. She hadn't even been asked her name and frankly almost had forgotten how it sounded on someone's lips. "You dont remember me? We used to have lessons together before…" a blink. No she didn't remember him. Was he there before? A furrowed of her own brow as she narrowed her eyes trying to remember him. Focused so hard on it a throb came to her head. What had been her teacher's names? Was he one of them? No he couldn't be, he looked barely able to be an adult. A teacher would of been older. Her ears pressed towards him as he continued his words. "Before everything happened. It would be strange if I didn't know your name." would it? Wasnt she just a nobody? Isn't that why she was considered trash? Wasn't that why no one had come to save her? Finally a shake of her head and a softening of her features as her head started throbbing. She couldn't remember. She barely remembered alot. A press of her ears and a roll of a tear down her scarred cheek.

It had been so long. Had he been dear to her? Was he a past lover? A friend? If he had been then she definitely felt bad that she couldn't remember. A turn of her face to watch the waterfall as he leaned into her. She must of been a dear friend to him for him to feel so comfortable and relaxed enough to touch her.

A look down as he asked his questions. "How did you come into Ultyr’s ’care’? I heard the order in his voice, is he keeping you as a slave?" How did she tell him? She guessed it was best to just tell him. Her paw moved and she scrawled the answer for him below her first line of writing. His father kept me as his cum bucket and punching bag. When my usefulness wore out I was thrown away, trashed. Ultyr pulled me from the trash to track his lost love. My purpose is to serve him as he sees fit now, so yes I'm his slave. But I care for him in ways a slave shouldn't. He can be sweet and caring, he just has a temper sometimes.... he's kept me fed and ensured me pleasure when he needs someone to bed unlike his father. her ears pressed and she turned her face to his as shame of her feelings colored her cheeks. He probably didn't want to know about her feelings. As well that a slave shouldn't love their master right? But she did....

It was her turn then to ask a question. She had so many holes and gaps in her memory, and placing him should be a priority. Or at least she expected it to be. Were we close? Was I a good friend to you then? The words were wrote and she expected to be scoffed at. Slaves shouldn't concern themselves with friends right? Was this all for naught?

"Hear"