Allison’s days blurred together in a nightmarish blend of running and pain mixed with patches of sleep, hunger and more pain. By the third day, most of the captives could do little more than hobble along. When she woke each morning, Allison felt gratitude all over again that she’d worn her hiking boots instead of her worn out sneakers the morning she’d gone with Kellen to the field. The slave drivers mixed some kind of paste from plants they collected that almost healed the blisters good as new, but the slavers captured some before they put shoes on. The plant salve did little for raw feet, cuts and bleeding.

Kattoh was one who didn’t have shoes. Luckily for him and Allison both — since they were still tied together — his feet were rough as sandstone. He told Allison he’d grown up only wearing shoes in the winter when it got cold. But even callused feet got sore and weren’t tough as shoes against a sharp rock or a thorn.

The two full days after capture were much the same: they jogged for long stretches and only took breaks when one of the captives collapsed. Most of the time, the person who fell was whipped to be sure they weren’t faking it. Then the slavers hauled them to their feet and dumped a nasty drink down their throat.

Allison was proud neither she or Kattoh had slowed enough to get the whip, but every morning at sunrise, the slavers made the rounds with wooden cups full of the drink they gave to the stragglers. The first time a slaver tried to get her to drink it, Allison knocked it from the slaver’s hand. They slapped her so hard on the side of the head she saw stars and offered another cup. Glaring, she’d choked it down.

Whatever they made the drink out of, it tasted terrible, like tar and hot sauce mixed together. Allison fought down a gag and forced herself to swallow each time. When it hit her stomach, she wanted to curl over and cry. It made no sense that something spicy enough to burn your stomach from the inside out could also make you shake like being locked in a freezer. The feeling only lasted a few seconds, but the second morning had been no better than the first. The captives received stale corn cakes and jerky that a dog would have had a hard time chewing through to wash it down.

Strangely, about ten minutes after she drank the nasty mixture, Allison’s pain usually faded. Her weak, wobbly legs felt sturdy again, and she found the will to run another day. It didn’t take a genius to realize the drink had something to do with it. That didn’t make the drinking any easier or less gross.

At midday on the first full day, they met up with more of the slavers. This looked like the group’s camp, guarded by another dozen men and women, all as mean and nasty-looking as the rest of Ubira’s crew. They’d paused long enough for the slavers to mount horses. Other captives, judging by the chains on their hands, rode mules. Most refused to look at the new captives. They stayed bent over the necks of the animals they rode, eyes downcast and straight ahead.

Allison had seen the same look before in one of her friend’s dogs. When her friend’s dad wasn’t listening, she’d told Allison that he kicked the animal all the time because it barked too much. As soon as Allison got home, she told her parents, who promised to call the county dog catcher and report it. They’d even taken her to visit the poor animal down at the shelter, but the dog still shook whenever someone got too close or started talking around it. Allison guessed these people were the same, with one exception.

Although he rode a mule and wore chains on his hands, one man kept his head raised and watched Allison and the other new captives as they’d bent over their knees and sucked in breath. Allison stared back at the man, looked almost as out of place as her. He wore the same three-quarter length pants and cotton shirt as the slavers, but he wore glasses, tucking them away carefully into his shirt after cleaning them. He was also African-American, the first black person Allison had seen since she’d arrived in this strange land. Allison guessed he was somewhere in his fifties, based on the wrinkles on his face and the specks of white in his black hair and short beard.

The man had spotted Allison’s blonde hair in seconds. He stared at her from his place in line with the other mules, which were all tied together by their halters so no one could try to ride away, Allison guessed. He’d even asked a slavers about her — Allison knew because he pointed right at her. In response, the slaver started shouting and pulled out a knife, threatening the black man with it. Allison was too far away to hear what they said, but the black man didn’t say anything else.

Over the next day, he watched Allison whenever he was around. She felt like a bear stuck in a pen at the zoo, and the last time she’d caught him staring, she’d shouted at the man to mind his own business, earning her the threat of a whipping if she spoke out of turn again.

When the man rode up to her on the evening of the second day, Allison ignored him. She was smart enough to know someone who would get her in trouble.

“You will ride with me tomorrow,” the man said. He had a deep voice that made his sound like a scary teacher, or maybe a minister.

Allison shot a look at Kattoh, who stared at her with wide, frightened eyes. He didn’t dare say anything, but it was clear he didn’t want to be left alone.

“No thanks,” Allison said, giving the man her most defiant stare. “I think I’ll walk with my friend.” She turned away. The other captives were already in line for their evening meal and even if it was only stale corn breadsticks and shoe leather, she didn’t want to miss it.

“Ubira commanded it.”

That made Allison stop in her tracks. She hated herself for it, but Ubira and his bird with all the teeth scared her, scared her more than anything but the thought that she might never see her family again.

“Can Kattoh ride too?” she asked

The man actually looked like he was considering it, then shook his head. “There is not room for two more — the mule would be too slow. And I think by now you know it is best not to be slow among these people.”

Allison looked at Kattoh. The boy gave her a pleading look that clearly said he didn’t want to be separated. And neither did Allison. Kattoh cried too much, but he was the closest thing she had to a friend among the captives. “I don’t want to leave him,” Allison told the man.

The man sighed and rubbed the scruff of a beard on his face. “I might get the boy extra food. That’s the best I can do. I would encourage you to take the offer. Ubira is not a man you tell no to.”

The next morning, the man came back for Allison as promised. And, to Allison’s surprise, he held out a handful of extra jerky strips for Kattoh. The boy grabbed them at once, stuffing them in his face like a squirrel, eyes darting at the other captives like he expected them to take the food from him.

“You’re going to choke,” Allison said.

The boy gave a big swallow and smiled. “Food is better in the stomach than in the hand.”

“You’re a smart young man,” the man said. He looked at Allison. “I’ll do what I can to help him out, but it’s going to depend on how well you cooperate, do you understand?”

Allison nodded. Already, she worried how Kattoh would run on his own but the question was soon answered when one of the slavers cut the rope tying their ankles together. She gave Kattoh an encouraging smile as the slaver led the boy away by the arm, a knot in her stomach wondering if she’d done the right thing.

“You may return to him in the evenings,” the man said, as if reading Allison’s thoughts. “He is healthy and strong, as much as any boy here can be. He’ll be okay.”

Looking away from Kattoh, Allison frowned at the man. “What’s your name?

The man laughed, a deep, joyful sound that Allison hadn’t expected. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? I suppose we didn’t get off to the best start.” He held out a hand to Allison. “Forgive my manners. It’s been some time since I’ve needed them. My name is Professor Edmund Arthur Ruggs, Evolutionary Biologist and amateur historian. You can call me Arthur.”

Allison stared at the man. “You’re not from around here, either, are you? And my name’s Allison Lars, by the way.”

Arthur shook his head. “I’m from Earth, just like you. Or at least I suspect that’s where you’re from. There aren’t many places to get a hoodie and blue jeans in Oras.”

Before Allison could ask another question, the professor cut her off. “We’ve got all day to talk. Right now, we need to mount up. Ubira isn’t a patient man. Let’s go.”

He led Allison to the mule, which was tied with the others in a separate line from the slaver’s horses. As they walked, Allison took in all she could. The more she knew about the slavers, the better her chances of escape were.

Like each night before, everyone slept on the ground without tents or campfires. So far, including Ubira, she’d counted twenty-five slavers, a mixture of men and women that looked to be from several ethnicities. Their tattoos and face paint, along with the multiple weapons each carried, marked them all as warriors. Allison had never seen such a strange array of spears, knives, bows, spears and several things she couldn’t recognize. The majority looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book: strange twists, florescent colors only began to describe them.

“Best to keep your eyes on the ground if you don’t want to attract attention,” the professor told her. “This isn’t a friendly bunch.”

Allison ducked her head but continued to scan to the left and right as they approached the line of mules tied together. The poor animals’ drooping heads could just be seen in the early morning light. They looked as sad and hungry as the other captives, which made Allison even more angry at the slavers. How could anyone be so cruel to any living creature?

The professor’s mule was already bridled and ready to go. A worn, faded blanket substituted for a saddle. Grabbing a handful of the mule’s stiff main, Ruggs swung himself onto its back, with surprising dexterity for such a large man. After adjusting the blanket and settling in place, he held out a hand for Allison. In one smooth motion, he pulled her up behind him. Allison felt a sudden awkwardness at being so close to a strange adult she didn’t know and settled for grabbing two bunches of the bank of the professor’s shirt instead of wrapping her arms around him. She already like the professor, although she couldn’t say why. That didn’t mean she wanted to hug him like her grandpa, though.

“All settled?” Ruggs asked over his shoulder.

Allison nodded before realizing the professor couldn’t see. “Yes.”

“If, for whatever reason, we have to ride faster than a trot, hold on,” the professor said. “Being a prisoner is bad, but being left alone on the plains is far worse, trust me on that.”

Ruggs directed their mule into the middle of the others and Allison watched the slavers come along and tie everyone’s legs together beneath the belly of the animal they rode. She tried not to think what would happen if someone fell off with their legs tied around the mule, especially if it was at a run when they lost their seat.

“Why didn’t they tie you up again?” Allison asked when the slavers passed by Ruggs, leaving his legs free. The professor gave a grim laugh. “Ubira keeps a close watch on me, and you now as well. It would seem he would rather chance the two of us escaping than risking a stumbling mule breaking our necks.”

With the mounted slaves secured and the others on foot roused, fed and ready to run, they set off, half the slavers riding in front with Ubira at the lead, a few scattered throughout the middle to watch the captives and the rest in the rear.

“Why does he care so much about us?” Allison asked once they’d started moving.

“Because we’re from Earth. Here in Oras, they call people like us who fall through the cracks spirit travelers. They think we’re from some place called the ‘Great Before.’ I have my suspicions that this Great Before is Earth and everyone here descended from people who found their way from Earth. It’s only a hypothesis and if it’s true, it’s been so long they’ve forgotten. So when we appear, they see us as good omens. Strong mana, they call it. They believe we are favored by the Wild Mother, their goddess. For someone like Ubira, whose trade is buying and selling people, we’re especially valuable.”

It felt weird talking to someone’s back but Allison had too many questions to be bothered by it. “Is this another planet? What makes us so special?”

“You have more questions than many of my old students combined!” Ruggs chuckled in his deep, rolling voice. “But I’ll try to answer as many of them as I can. Understand I don’t have all the answers and many things I’m only guessing about.”

“I want to know whatever you do.” The more Allison knew, the better chance she had of getting home. She wondered where Kellen was, if he was still on Earth or somewhere else in this place Ruggs called Oras. Was he looking for her? By now, her parents must have known she was gone. It made her sad to think of them looking all over the fields back home where there would be no sign of her. A wave of emotion hit her. Even if she could never see them, if only she could send them a message to let them know she was alive… Tears welled up in Allison’s eyes and she tried to blink them away before the crying came and Ruggs heard her.

She felt the professor’s back stiffen and he cleared his throat. “I’m… sorry this happened to you. But I will do whatever I can to keep you safe. We can talk about something else if you’d like.”

Allison sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s okay, I need to understand.” She gazed out over the grasslands and the strange, crooked rock formations that looked like worn-out chimneys as Ruggs began.

“Four years ago, I fell asleep in the jungles of Central America. When I awoke, I found myself surrounded by mountains and pine trees, with nothing but the clothes on my back. I thought I had died. Not long after, I was captured by a band of nomads who I later learned belong to the Fire Bison Tribe. I traveled as their captive for over three years and in that time I came to realize I was neither dead, nor anywhere on Earth. I have my theories and suspicions but all I know for certain is that we exist in a different dimension or plain of reality now.”

The professor paused and Allison wondered if she should be upset by the news. But so far, the story Ruggs told wasn’t that different from hers. When she didn’t ask any questions, he continued.

“From my travels, I can tell you that Oras is similar to North America in many ways: the geography and weather, namely. I have heard tales of what I take to be jungles and tropical islands, but have not seen them for myself. The people and animals, for all of their strange features, are not so different from those native to the Americas. That is, aside from the rare ability some animals and humans have to…”

Ruggs paused, making Allison think of conversations she had with her parents when they weren’t sure if she was old enough to understand what they had to say, even though she knew perfectly well what was going on. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Well, use magic is probably the simplest way to explain it, although it still sounds insane to say it aloud,” Ruggs said. “They call it mana and I’ve seen people and creatures alike do impossible things that are attributed to its power.”

Allison scowled and felt her face flush with irritation. “Are you making fun of me? I’m twelve years old — I’m not stupid.”

She didn’t know how she’d ended up in her current situation, but what Ruggs said was just ridiculous. Sure, Ubira’s black bird with all the fangs was kind of scary, but that didn’t mean it could breathe fire or grants wishes or whatever else Ruggs wanted her to think.

“I can assure you, this is no joke,” Ruggs said. “I’ve seen a man shoot fire from his bare hands, watched a woman outrace a deer and kill a charging bison with a wave of her hand. I’ve seen the same bison in the thousands, racing across the plains with fire burning at their hooves and a great wall of flames behind them, high as a skyscraper and wider than five city blocks.”

“Pssh.” Allison had half a mind to jump down and walk. Ruggs was clearly off his rocker or thought she was dumber than a rock. “Buffalo on fire, huh? I’m not a little kid you can scare with make believe stories.”

“Believe what you want, Ms. Lars,” the professor said. “You’ll see what I speak of yourself before our journey is through.”

“Where are we going?” Allison asked. She didn’t like the tone the professor used when she’d called his bluff. It sounded much too serious for her taste. Maybe Ruggs was crazy after all.

“Across the mountains to the south is my guess,” Ruggs said. “Likely to be sold in the slave markets of the Kingdom of the Sun Hawk.”

“What about the other people like us?” Allison said, hoping for some better answers. “You said we’re supposed to bring good luck. Why are we tied up then?”

“Ubira is a collector of people,” Ruggs said. “Last spring, he paid a fortune in weapons and armor from the Badger Empire to purchase me from the Fire Bison. People don’t just fall asleep and wake up in Oras every day. In all my time, you’re the first I’ve ever met, although there are stories of others.”

Allison wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the professor’s story was really raining on her plans to get home. She didn’t want to ask, but had to know. “How… how do we get home?”

Ruggs was silent for a long time. “To my knowledge, we can’t.”