The scene was quiet except for the sounds of the strange rhino-crocs that were roaming about nearby. It seemed as though everyone but the robed man who I intuited was the merchant had nothing to say, or couldn't think of anything. I took the opportunity to quickly scan around, noting the qualities of the people nearby. In addition to the four armored guards which obviously came from the caravan, there were two more of the village guards standing further out on either side. Even if they weren't dressed differently, the mannerism differences between the two groups would have made determining which was which obvious to me.

Those four are soldiers, I knew immediately upon viewing the caravan guards, professional fighters, not conscripts. Probably mercenaries if they're working for a caravan though they could be contracted to a local tribe or nation. Of all the people around me, the four caravan guards showed the least emotion and were most closely replicating my current information gathering. While relaxing, each kept a lookout into areas that were in the peripheries of the others' vision, forming an almost complete circle of surveillance. By contrast, the village guards were nervously glancing at me and showing signs of early fight or flight, with sweat beading down the forehead of the one to my right.

The merchant wasn't a fighter at all, I could tell by the way he moved around. It was strange to watch someone simultaneously be so confident and so poor at guarding themselves. A long knife with a decorative handle was nestled between the robes on his belly, looking more ornamental than functional, with its handle on his left side. As my eyes met his again he laughed and smiled, approaching me and craning his neck towards me to get a closer look. “I thought he would be hairier. You washed him?” the merchant asked, taking a sniff in my direction. “How'd you manage that?” I should take a relaxed and passive posture for now, I thought, No need for him to think I'm plotting anything.

“He isn't afraid of water sir,” the farmer replied, “in fact he held quite still while we scrubbed him down.” I had been so glad to take a bath that I nearly thanked my captors for giving me one after feeding me. The dirt of the cell helped to keep the smell of my body suppressed but my skin had been continually trying to get me to scratch it for a day and a half before I broke out. The instinct had only calmed down once the mud and grime had been cleaned off of me.

“Of course not,” the merchant snapped, “he's a forest man, his people bathe in rivers and lakes pahwgeyvayvao. What I meant was how did you do it without him breaking out and attacking you?”

“I had the guards tie him to a tpehz today and prepare him for sale,” the human in the tunic and dress said. Curious that there was no mention of my escape in there, I thought, suppressing a smile that was bubbling up through my emotive mind. Being around humans again had started to trigger my reflexive emotive displays, so I had to use mental energy keeping them reigned in. The merchant nodded and rubbed his chin, sizing me up as though I was an animal which he was purchasing. I suppose from his point of view I am, I thought, just a much more dangerous one than he realizes.

“I thought you said he could speak,” the merchant commented, “he hasn't said a word yet. Do you speak, forest man?” The merchant met my eyes and I met his. I watched for some sign of fear, some sign that he might understand what I was planning to do to him if I got the chance, but I saw nothing but confidence and a bit of stupidity.

“He speaks,” the farmer said, “I heard him talking to Mpahray when we tied him up.”

“Well, speak then,” the merchant commanded me. He seems like a rather proud individual for someone so weak, I thought, I can use that. I softened my face and added a hint of confusion to my expression, looking a bit dopey for him. “I am your new owner, and I am telling you to speak,” the merchant reiterated. I raised an eyebrow, then glanced to the human in the tunic and dress as if looking for directions. The merchant caught my motion and looked back as well.

“He can do it,” the human insisted. “Talk to him! Don't make me koyn you forest man.” The merchant looked back at me and I saw something new: suspicion. Too easy, I thought as I made a perfect nervous grin.

“I'm going to bury that knife in your skull, you disgusting monkey,” I said in English using the friendliest tone I could manage, injecting just the slightest hint of apprehension. The merchant cried out joyously, clapping his hands together, and I flinched back from him visibly.

“Oh that is brilliant, what language is that?” he asked, not directing the question towards anyone in particular. After a few moments of silence he looked around. “What did he say?” he asked.

“I don't know,” the human with the dress replied, “it doesn't sound like any language I've ever heard. Surely these people had their own languages at some point. He must be speaking in his lihmoyr language.”

“They aren't people,” the merchant corrected, “not really anyway. More like something caught shaaskih between a man and an animal. If you can't understand him, how did you talk to him and find out his story? Does someone in the village speak his language?” Curiously, I saw both the caravan guards and the village guards become tenser as this verbal exchange happened. Interesting, I thought, very interesting.

“No, I told you he can speak Uwrish. He learned it after we caught him,” the human in the dress said. “He can understand us right now, I'm sure of it. He's deliberately doing this for some reason.” A flash of anger shone through in the tone of the last statement. The merchant turned back to me with a frown, then reached out with his hand and tapped the side of my face.

“Very funny savage, now let's all have a conversation properly okay?” he said with a smile. The implied threat was not lost on me. I wonder if he's stupid enough to fall for this, I thought as I planned my next moves.

“Sorry,” I grunted, “get hurt when talk. Man hit with metal stick. Put metal on hands and feet.” I inflected and stressed my words somewhat randomly to make my speech sound very unsophisticated. The merchant's eyes lit up and he cheered again before turning back to the human in the dress.

“He was just scared, see?” he said warmly. “He must be a sensitive beast, even my laughter startled him a few moments ago.” He glanced back at me and I tried my hardest to look overwhelmed by the situation until he looked away. “He's terrified, he must have never seen so many people in his life,” the merchant told the dress human empathetically.

“We didn't beat or attack him for speaking, he's lying,” they replied.

“Oh? Are you sure none of your guards engaged in a little bit of fun while you weren't watching?” the merchant snarked. “You are the yihmpaoawpt of the village, it's not like you can watch everyone all the time.” The village leader, or so I guessed, gave the merchant a hard stare but said nothing. The merchant turned back to me with a much friendlier face than before. “Don't worry, you belong to me now and I won't hurt you,” he assured me.

“Not hurt you either,” I grunted with a dopey smile. “No want back in dark room with metal bar.”

“Oh of course my new friend,” the merchant grinned, “I won't put you in any cages. I'll even give you food and clothing, maybe a big section of forest on my land all to yourself. But I'll need you to do some things for me too, okay?”

“Want help man,” I pouted, “but have metal on hands and feet.” Just a big friendly animal, I thought at the merchant, that's all I am, you have nothing to fear. The merchant looked back at his guards, who spread out around me, keeping a distance of around two or three meters as they placed their hands on their swords. I heard one muttering something about their boss being stupid, but I doubted that the merchant had ears as keen as mine.

“How about I take it off then?” the merchant suggested. “If I do though, you have to promise me you won't run away or hurt anybody. Do you know what a promise is?”

“Uhh...” I drawled, “where man do thing he say? Not know all man word.”

“If you promise, you can't lie,” the merchant said, “you have to do as you say on your honor.” I took a few seconds to appear as though I was trying to understand what the merchant had said to me, then grunted in acknowledgment.

“I promise, no hurt or run,” I smiled, “man have food?” The merchant looked to one of his guards who nodded and walked to one of the wagons.

“One of my other friends is getting some for you right now,” the merchant said with a smile. He turned to the farmer and held out his hand. The farmer looked at him like he was crazy, which he was, but after exchanging some glances with the village leader the farmer reluctantly withdrew a key from his pants' pocket and placed it in the merchant's hand. In the background, the village leader was slowly backing away from the scene, as were the village guards. The caravan guard who had gone to get me food was twelve meters away, but still watching me and ready to draw his weapon. At least someone around here has a brain, I thought.

The merchant bent down and unlocked my feet first, frequently looking up at me as if to remind me of my so-called promise as he did so. Once my feet were unchained, he backed up a step and pretended to stretch himself out while watching me, probably for signs that I would try to bolt. The cuffs still attached to my arms and the chains linking them were heavy, but a dumb beast might have thought he could escape with them still on. In response, I flexed my legs and rolled my ankles, smiling at him while causing a few sharp inhales from his guards. The merchant smiled back and, after a couple of seconds, approached again. He gestured for me to raise my arms, then unlocked the cuffs binding them.

“There you go,” he said as the last of the metal hit the ground, “I'll bet that feels a lot better.” He stood in front of me with his chest puffed out pridefully, smiling as I smiled back at him. “Now when you're coming with me on the wagon we'll have to put some ropes on your legs, but that's just so you don't fall out okay?” he asked. My eyes went from his face to his belly, judging the distance between us. I glanced at the three caravan guards, judging their ranges and level of readiness, then made a tactical decision.

“Men have metal long knife,” I mumbled, looking at the guards very obviously with feigned fear, “not want hurt again.” The merchant glanced to his guards, but nobody moved. The guards flashed looks between themselves, then back to the merchant in disbelief.

“Step back a bit,” the merchant ordered, waving his hand lazily.

“But sir-” The guard to my left started to protest.

“You’re making my new purchase nervous,” the merchant stated coldly, staring daggers at the guard who spoke up.

“Sir that’s a dangerous ani-” the guard to my right began, but he too was cut off.

“I am paying you quite well to obey me, am I not? Back up ten nihzoyb,” the merchant demanded. The lilt in his voice made the threat quite clear. “If this beast wanted to yehv me it would have already done so. Clearly it is not hostile, and has enough of a mind to zeyngyoym to its betters. Giving it some ngpaohhoydh room will not put me at risk. Even if it attacks me, it has no weapons so you will be able to naazeysae it before it harms more than my clothing. Now, you will obey my orders, or we will be having a discussion about your tawlmpaatm when we return from this place,” he added, sending a ripple of slight winces through the nearby guards. One by one they began stepping back until they were around eight meters away. One continued stepping back to around twelve, shaking his head disdainfully.

“Thank man,” I grunted, releasing my fearful expression for a goofy smile. As humans tended to do, the merchant returned my expression, though he most likely would have thought his own expression more dignified than mine.

“Of course my friend,” the merchant replied cheerily, “why don’t we go over to my wagon and get you some clothing? You can tell me all about what happened before these mean villagers caught you on the way over.” My eyes looked to the guards once more, then the merchant standing so haughtily in front of me, and then I made my move.

My right hand whipped out towards the merchant's belly, grabbing the handle of his knife before he knew what was happening. In my peripheral vision I could see a guard drawing his sword at the same time that I pulled the knife from its sheath. The blade was curved, sharp on two sides, and had a notch on the interior side. I reversed the course of my arm, thrusting the blade back towards the merchant's neck and impaling it at the midpoint before he finished showing surprise. Using my left hand, I grabbed the merchant's shoulder, pulled him toward me while turning him around to face away from me, and tore the blade outwards through his windpipe, spraying blood all over the ground in front of us. I then hooked the blade behind his neck and used my left hand to secure his head. One more motion severed his spine and the rest of the flesh around it, and his body flopped to the ground lifelessly.

By the time the merchant's head had been fully detached his guards had already taken three steps towards me. Thankfully the one who had gone to fetch the food was still almost twenty meters away. I heard the sound of blowdarts and raged against my inability, more through will than coherent thought, as the small blurring darts flew at my chest. As if spurred by my desperation, a wave of pain shot through my whole body, burning like white-hot plasma. My vision whited out for an instant, and when it came back two darts were on the ground in front of me. In the back of my mind I recognized panic on the faces of two village guards holding blowguns, but didn't have time to register it properly. A sword came at me from my right, only being narrowly deflected from its lethal path by my dagger, and the fight began.