The morning sun turned the black sky a soft red. The stars disappeared, and the greater moon Mida had already chased the lesser moon beyond the edge of the world. Vix stood at the edge of the trees, staring down the road, sniffing at the air. The slavers would have travelled far by now, Isidrian thought. The true problem lied in that they would effectively be following them for the remainder of their journey. Vix’s ears were pricked as though she expected the slavers to crest the horizon at any moment.

“I smell them, Master.” Vix said, “But it is carried on the wind, and dried into the dirt.”

“We will continue onwards then.” Dawn stated. “Vix, stay wary. If they come back it could be all our heads.”

Vix nodded subserviently. She moved to take the reins of the horse but it skittered away from her. Isidrian ran a hand down its long face to calm it and gripped a hold of the swaying reins. He led the horse and wagon through a gap in the treeline. Dawn climbed onto the front seat once he reached the road and took the reins back from him. Vix half-leapt into the back of the wagon, landing with enough grace for her added weight to barely be felt.

Dawn flicked the reins and the horse dragged forwards, the wheels of the wagon sliding into the ruts left by the slave convoy. “Isidrian, a quart cup of cider.” Dawn demanded.

“Bit early in the morning don’t you think?” Isidrian replied half-jokingly.

“It wasn’t brought to get drunk on. Cider, in small amounts on the road, stops you from getting ill. Burns the illness right out of you.” Dawn explained. “Now pour me a quart.”

Isidrian clambered over the bench and into the back of the wagon. Vix retrieved a metal mug from a sack by her feet and poured a quart from the barrel beside her. Isidrian took a hold of the mug and gave an appreciative nod. Her tail stroked the back of his leg as he stepped away. Isidrian leaned across the back of the bench and handed the mug to Dawn. She took it and drank deep.

“Put it in the sack for dirty cutlery. Vix will wash it if we stop by a river.”

Vix dug through the cargo and opened a sack. Inside was a skewer, the end slightly tinged red. Isidrian chucked the metal cup inside and inspected his hand in the sunlight. A thin cut ran from the fingertip to the second knuckle of his index finger on his right hand. The scab had formed overnight. No need for a bandage. He sat down amongst the cargo opposite Vix. She gave a thin smile, tiredness from the previous night evident on her face. Her eyes traced a path between him and the horizon before them, as if expecting the slavers to crest it at any moment. She was unnerved, Isidrian realised. It was not something that he saw often in her.

“They’re long gone. If they marched through the night they’d be in a hurry to get somewhere. I doubt they’ll be turning back for anything.” Isidrian stated.

“I… appreciate the kind thought, Master, but there is no need to worry for me.” Vix replied courteously as her gaze flicked to Dawn. Her true thoughts were belied as she gripped his outstretched leg with her ankles. She mouthed a silent thank you to him.

“Isidrian, I need you up here.” Dawn ordered.

Sighing, Isidrian lifted himself from amongst the cargo and clambered back onto the front bench. The morning dew was evaporating around them and his shirt had begun to stick to him. There wasn’t enough moisture to make mist. The rains had abandoned them this season, the surrounding fields that were once lush now lay barren, grand swathes of dirt and dying grass.

“What do you need?” Isidrian asked as he settled. The hard edge of the bench dug uncomfortably into his lower back.

“For you to stop bothering the slave. It’s unbecoming. If she grows too attached it will cause problems if we find her a husband.” Dawn stated. “That is the reason I brought her along, after all.”

“What if we don’t find her a husband?” Isidrian asked, then in response to Dawn’s side glare added, “On this trip?”

“Isidrian. When I want something I get it. If I say that the slave will be married to the first person that we next lay eyes upon then it is so. This is not a matter for you to decide.”

“If Father is dead then his property - and therefore Vix - belong to me. That makes it my decision.” Isidrian countered.

Dawn’s open palm clipped him hard across the back of his head.

“And as we decided before we left, your father is not dead. Therefore I speak on his behalf in all matters while he is away.”

“And while you were gone, I ran the post by myself. Morning till dusk, every day until you returned. You owe me.”

Dawn pulled back on the reins, the horse jerking to a halt. “Slave. You will walk behind the wagon.”

“Vix, stay in the wagon.” Isidrian commanded.

“Slave.” Dawn spat as she glared at Isidrian.

“Vix.” Isidrian returned the glare.

The wagon rocked as Vix climbed down. Dawn turned her eyes forward and spurred on the wagon. “She will walk until you learn your place.”

Isidrian climbed down from the front bench.

“Isidrian! Get your arse back on this seat right now!” Dawn shouted at him.

He ignored her and stomped around to the back of the wagon. The warmth of the sun scorched the back of his neck and hands. “Lovely day for a walk isn’t it?” He asked Vix. She watched him with wide eyes. “Although,” Isidrian continued, “It would be a shame to walk everywhere for the rest of your life. Here, let me help you back into the wagon.” He lowered the tailgate of the wagon and offered his left hand to Vix. The wagon jolted forwards.

“Fine, walk with the slave. Let all honourable Verdetians who see you know you stand in the dirt with her kind.” Dawn shouted. She drove the wagon forwards.

Isidrian half expected her to stop. When she showed no sign of doing so, he offered his arm to Vix.

She scoffed and began walking. “You didn’t need to do that.”

Isidrian hastened to catch up. “I did. When we arrive in Rogain and Father isn’t there, I will free you.”

“How many days has it been? Two? Not even three since you heard of your father’s death and you already use it as leverage against me.” Vix sneered sarcastically.

“Oh? And what happened to being my slave?” Isidrian stabbed.

“Master, in the sincerest meaning of the phrase, go fuck yourself. I can take care of myself. All that happened due to your need to protect me is that we now both need to walk to Rogain.” She walked faster, eyes never leaving the horizon the wagon was slowly diminishing into.

Isidrian threw his hands up in exasperation before flicking his chin with the back of his hand and hissing at her. He shook his head and followed a few steps behind her. Her long vulpine ears laid low against her head, tail rigid. She was pissed.

Their crunching footfalls added a cadence to the silence between them. Long minutes dragged on as they continued to fume. The sun’s heat hindered cooler heads from prevailing. Sweat stains marked Vix’s back through the drab dress she wore. Isidrian enjoyed the fact that she would be feeling the heat more than him. The fur kept her warm in winter but the hot summer days left her prone to heat sickness.

“Can you see any shade ahead?” Isidrian asked, “It’s ridiculous walking in this heat.”

“We wouldn’t be - “ Vix began, then stopped, sighing. “Trees ahead, I believe the Master is waiting in their shade. At least another half an hour walking.” She used the back of her hand to wipe sweat away from her face and ears. Isidrian slid his shirt over his head and offered it to her. “Put your shirt back on.” She stated.

“Wrap it about your head like the Broken do, it will stop some of the sunburn.” He said, and when she made no move to take the shirt, he added, “That’s an order.”

She begrudgingly took the shirt from him and draped it across her neck and face. Her fair skin above the line of her steel collar was rubbed raw. Grimacing, she looked back at him. “It stinks.”

“Better than getting burned.”

“No, no. It stinks, really bad. When did you wash last?”

“You’d know. You stand at the window and watch me.” Isidrian bristled.

“Only for your safety Icy, if anyone could drown in two inches of water, it would be you.” She quipped.

Isidrian hastened to walk beside her. “At least you’d be there to save me then. If I died where would that leave you?”

“With one less Master to worry about that. Your mother would believe it if Two-bit told her, and Two-bit would find it hysterical if he found you drowned in that tub, even if I did it. She likes him better anyway.” Vix mused aloud. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she cast him a sidelong stare.

“Plotting to murder your Master now? For shame Vix. What ever will I do with you?”

“Free me.” She said quietly.

“I will. I promised that as soon as we get to Rogain I’d free you remember?”

“You promised that if Master Ochre isn’t there you’d free me.”

“That’s because I don’t own you unless… Father’s dead.” He paused. “I lay claim to his assets as his eldest of-age son.”

“And if your mother stops you?”

“Would I really be walking all this way beside you if she could stop me?”

“Yes, you would. Because you’re an idiot. Look,” She said, poking reddened his chest, “You’re already burning. Take this back.” She pulled the shirt from her head and draped it over his face. Her ears twitched and she looked back up the road.

Dawn was returning to them atop the wagon. “You look ridiculous Isidrian, put your shirt back on.” She berated him. “And you’re burnt. I won’t be helping you make salve for them, and neither will the slave. Slave, get in the back. My idiot son will walk a while longer. I made the mistake of thinking that making him walk was punishment without taking into account spending time with Gargans” She spat the word as she would a slur, “without my presence is what he considers a blessing.”

Vix nodded at her Master’s command and circled the wagon without looking back at Isidrian. Dawn sneered darkly down at him. “Ahead there are some trees. From the number of smouldering fires it looks like the merchants made camp there last night. If we hurry, we might be able to join their convoy.”

“You want to join the Slavers?” Isidrian asked, taken aback.

“There were only a few amongst the convoy. The rest were non-human cargo. If you didn’t notice that then my hopes for you are growing even dimmer, if that is at all possible.”

“I did, but consorting with them and those they travel with is something I’d rather not do.” Isidrian replied.

Dawn looked as though she’d been slapped. “You’re a hypocrite. You own a slave, you’ve just spent the last half hour walking with her rather than riding with me. You’re as bad as they are, like it or not.”

“I am not like them. I do not own Vix, Father does.” Isidrian countered.

Dawn spurred the horse to action. “You’ll continue walking then.”

“If it means spending more time out of your miserable presence Mother, than there is nothing I would like more.”