It took Gia a few long minutes to calm Moira down from her hysteria, so she could explain her reasoning.

“Please, just listen. We are currently a good week’s travel from the nearest friendly village and even further from the nearest city of any prosperity. You seem terribly outfitted for the weather and likely have no idea where the village is. If you remove the band, I’ll be forced to immediately head towards Syrazain; the closest city with an active slave administration. My leeway with my Brand had long passed. I would quickly out-distance you, in light of your current injuries, and even with this light blow, you would quickly lose my trail.” She clarified gesturing to the slowly falling snow.

“But... But, your right of course, I need the help. Still, there has to be a way to free you.” Moira muttered, her chest started constricting with pain, her breath shortening. Oh my God! Please no not again. She froze, her thoughts circling. It’s not my fault. She’s my slave, I need her to be my slave, oh god. It’s not my fault. She my slave, oh god...It is my fault I killed the Gnolls... Oh god I killed them! I... But I had to! They were eating people alive! Oh god it's my fault! I killed them and now she’s my slave. She rocked forward grabbing her sides with her hands dry heaving, the pain escalating rapidly.

“Hey, hey, calm down. It’s ok, I was born a slave. It’s alright. Where is that lady, I just saw take on three large Gnolls and win?” Gia said trying to be reassuring and encouraging, noticing Moira’s despair. She tried to reach out to her but the rope prevented the movement.

Dandy sent a burst of startled worry through their new connection, as he was forced from her lap, which threw her rapidly descending thoughts off.

Oh God don’t watch me, no please just make it go away. Moira turned away so Gia couldn’t see her shame. She’s my slave. Oh god, forgive me. Her chest really hurt, and it was making the ribs she suspected were a least cracked shoot sharp pain through her body.

“There has to be a way.” Moira groaned quietly, her painful ribs giving her something physical to focus on. She remained unmoving, staring off into space, as the attack slowly passed. Oh my god, I thought I was final passed the attacks. She thought in anguish. Now her body hurt even more as the attack left her feeling like a rung-out dishrag.

“I wouldn’t be safe in any large kingdom with my grey brands. Even if there was a way.” Gia eventually said. Letting Moira get control of herself.

“Grey brands?” Moira asked, latching desperately onto something that seemed innocuous.

“When a brand is disabled, it greys out. Any color it had turns a shade of grey, as the active magic leaves it. Any movement it has also stops and it becomes inactive. There are people that employ only black and grey marks, but they make sure there is an active element to it. I’ve heard there are ways and reasons to activate old marks along with new ones, but it’s never been done to me, so I have no knowledge of how or why. I now have 5 greyed brands, though they are hard to see against my dark fur. Active brands noticeably effect fur and hair, changing its color to display the brand. Even greyed out brands will show quite evidently on some of the kin. The greys will still retain the effect on the fur coloring. I’m lucky that I have this rare black and grey coat. Rare for a Griz at least.”

Gia’s thorough explanation help Moira too finally calm down and relax. Maybe everything can be fine, somehow, she thought bitterly.

“Surely there has to be a way to free you. What happens if a rival kingdom captures someone? Then their home kingdom recovers them?” Moira inquired.

“Ransom, if it’s anyone of means. Most of which will have a master's brand so they are easy to identify; they are generally quite large as they have to be around 5-10 times as large as your slave's marks. Most of them end up on a master’s back as they are easy to cover there. Though there have been smaller ones, but this requires additional Brands as you add slaves. Ends up sort of individualized. Requires lots of paperwork I imagine.”

“If your family is poor, and can’t pay the ransom, no one cares if you end up a slave. You will remain a slave if you are retaken. Though you might be fighting your old kingdom in such an instance. Which would mean you weren’t very loyal to begin with. Remember what I told you about the collars?”

Moira nodded. Her breathing had settled out and Dandy had returned, looking for a way back into her lap.

“Brands act in much the same way. Though they don’t have the emotional effects and allow for some autonomy and interpretation of indirect orders. Kingdoms will only very rarely try and pit a slave against their old homes or people. Some noble families have been known to ignore a ransom if the loss was particularly embarrassing or for other family intrigues. At least, so I’ve heard.” Gia answered with a, very human, what can you do shrug.

“So, once branded, always a slave? That’s fucking depressing.” Moira grumbled angrily, gently rubbing her aching hips, jostling the cat awkwardly. The bruising was already settling in and it was going to be bad.

“I’m afraid so. Well, there is a Branding Marriage to a freeperson. It’s seen as drastic, as most such unions develop or require a mental connection. I don’t really know how it works, never seen, or heard of, someone that had it done.” Gia explained.

“Yeah I can see that going bad.” Moira grimaced looking at Dandy a little apprehensively. “What about the people who do the Brands? Surely there is someone that can disable one or make one that is fake or something?”

“Other kingdoms use their Inkies to change the royal bindings over, but the system is generally the same everywhere. Any Inky caught creating a slave brand without a kingdoms link, is hunted down and publicly executed, along with his or her entire extended family. If they are married their spouse's family is taken too. They only leave children under 5 alive and only the king knows where they end up; probably why many Inkies are slaves. It’s the one crime other than treason that you can't take a slave brand instead of death for. It doesn’t happen more than once a generation. Once a slave always a slave.” Gia answered quietly.

Gia judged Moira’s mood a bit before speaking. “So, as my former master was killed without heirs, along with his entire household. You have a ‘right of conquest’ claim to me, seeing as I was won in battle after been taken by the Gnolls. Even if you were to claim me in Mesa, the kingdom my late master belonged to. Which leaves you with three choices. One, you remove that band and I return to the crown. Which I've already suggest you leave off for now. Second, you sell me at some point after an admin verification. Third you keep me.”

“Alright, I get it.” Moira said closing her eyes and hanging her head with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose; the cold was making it run and she resisted the urge to wipe it.

“What would you suggest we do now?” She asked, gathering herself, and studying the rope tying Gia to the tree. She fumbled with it for a bit, trying to get the knots loose, before sighing and shuffling painfully to her pack to retrieve one of the blades she had acquired, before returning to cut Gia loose.

The Gnoll, that Moira had unfortunately forgotten in her hysteria, shifted drawing both hers and Gia’s attention. Moira quickly lifted her gun to point it at the figure.

“Wait, don’t.” Gia said putting a heavy hand on Moira’s shoulder as she came up beside her.

“What? Why? Didn’t they kill everyone you were with?” Moira asked not taking her eyes off the Gnoll but kept her finger in the safety position; against the trigger guard.

“That is no reason to kill her pups. In fact, they are quite valuable if you can get them back to Syrazain alive.” Gia tempered.

“It’s a pregnant female?” Moira asked incredulous, before she started to protest. “Wait no! I’m not enslaving some babies! That horrible! What’s wrong with you?” She gave Gia a disbelieving look.

"Gnolls, outside of their tribal groups, are seen as especially unstable and dangerous. So, if they are to be in civilized places they must be branded or collared. It’s a pretty entrenched view.” Gia explained.

“My choices are: enslaving them, kill the mother and thus them, or let her go?” Moira reasoned rubbing her forehead with her left hand, keeping the gun up.

“You can’t let her go. She will just get her tribe and they will quickly hunt us down; if she doesn’t die from her arm first. You could just collar her, and bind her arm properly, then deal with it later. Though I would strongly suggest not letting her go later. She will have scented us properly and return to her tribe which will eventually be a problem.” Gia explained.

“That is no fucking choice at all. Leave no enemy alive behind you, huh? I’ve heard that before. I hate my life; this is definitely the worst bloody day of my life.” Moira muttered with a bitter laugh.

“Alright, fine, do we even have a fucking collar?” Moira said angrily.

“There are plenty in the great-pack I was carrying for the expedition.”

“Of course, there is plenty of fucking slave collars.” Moira swore under her breath.

Gia approached a large lump next to a nearby tree and flipped it up before digging in. She eventually came up with a collar and approached Moira who was watching the stirring Gnoll and handing it to her.

“What do I need to do?” Moira asked resigned.

“You just push a little essence in, and it will pop it open. Then you prick your finger and put a drop of your blood on it after you fix it around her neck.” Gia explained baffled. What an insular upbringing this, Moira, must have had.

“Wait essence? What are you talking about?” Moira asked confused, before a line in the baffling email she had recently read came back to her. “Does this have something to do with Enchanting?” She asked.

Gia just stared at her for a moment, confused. “Well of course an enchanter would need essence. How do you not know how to move essence? Young children know this. I thought you were a fire mage. Where are you from? One of those crazy anti-magic monasteries?” She reasoned once again studying Moira’s strange weapon, it worked somewhat like a small naval cannon. She had seen its fire.

“What? No... Fire-mage?” She hung her head in resignation before running a hand through her hair pushing her hood back. The ache in her side was getting persistent and making her irritable.

Moira let out a painful sigh. I really need the help. She reasoned with herself.

“I’m not from this world.”