Under the Shadow of the Eagle

Part Nine

For one month, the tribe trained. For one month, they stared at the sky, each of them, looking for signs of the eagle. For a whole month, they prepared themselves, they got to know each other, they taught and listened to each other. For a whole month, they learned from each other, expecting the worst each day.

—Try harder, or do you want to go back to the arenas? —a woman scoffed.

—No, owner, I'll try harder —her slave answered, exhausted.

—If you can make me feel something tonight, you can eat again tomorrow.

—It'll be so, owner.

With his back straight, over her, firm, barely holding on to her shoulders, the man could barely feel his own body. His limbs were numb after several days of facing others like him, besides the hours spent in the same position, and although he wanted to think of anything else, he could only think of the pain in his neck and between his legs.

—Come on, faster, harder! —from squeezing his shoulders with both hands, the woman went on to dig her nails into his skin until he bled, deliberately opening his most recent scars—, do it like a warrior! Like a champion of your tribe!

And suddenly, the woman's face changed. Suddenly, her hands had slipped from the slave's shoulders, down his arms, into his hands, and had intertwined her fingers with his.

—... Mistress? —blinking in shock in his sleep, the slave awoke scarcely.

—Oh... I'm sorry... —the apprentice was lying in front of him, under the same austere tent.

—What...? —sleepy and bewildered, he barely managed to form words... but he noticed his hands.

The woman was holding them, interlacing their fingers, interrupting the man's sleep. Her face was the last one he saw in his memories during the nightmare, when that of his former owner disappeared.

—I didn't mean to wake you up...

—No... —slowly, the slave returned to reality—... never mind... thank you, mistress.

—Huh? Why?

—For getting me out of a nightmare...

—Oh... I understand...

—You know... she...

—You don't have to tell me.

—I know, but... but I have to if... if I want to become a... I have to in order to be free again.

—... I'm listening.

—There were servants who cut the hair of the new slaves, and they shaved them too... with me, she preferred to do it herself... saying... telling me while she was doing it... "so you were a champion... that's what you were..."

—... Your hair has grown long enough.

—What?

—Get up a little bit.

The apprentice sat where she was, keeping her legs on the floor, but raising her back and head. The slave imitated her.

In silence, she brought her hands close to the man's head, and in a few minutes, she had made a short braid of his hair.

—Do you see? —she asked him then, taking his face with both hands, looking into his eyes, smiling—, it's long enough now.

—... I didn't... I didn't expect it.

—You look like...

—Eh?

—... Like you again. Like your tribe's champion.