The Protector and the Peacemaker

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

(Tick)

The sun had long since set when Tick's cart finally came to a halt. Tick, who had been sleeping against the back wall, opened his eyes and looked around. With a jolt, he realized that Manchi was asleep as well, her head resting on his lap. He gently nudged her, but she clenched her eyes shut.

"Leave me alone," she moaned desperately.

"Wake up," Tick urged her. "They're bringing us food."

"I don't want any!" she said, refusing to open her eyes.

"You have to take it," Tick insisted. "If you don't, they won't give you any later."

Reluctantly, Manchi forced her eyes open and sat up. She hugged her knees to her chest as they listened to their keeper make his way up the Caravan, banging on the bars to get the captives' attention. Several minutes later, the slave trader finally arrived outside of their cage with someone following behind him, carrying a cauldron of thick, greasy slop. Tick blinked in surprise when he realized the server was a dwarf. His skin was sickly, and his beard had been shaved off, leaving his pudgy face visible to the world— the most shameful thing that could happen to a dwarf. The slaver stood a few feet away, keeping a passive eye on him. The dwarf banged a wooden ladle against the bars and filled two bowls before sliding them into the cage.

"Hey," Tick said to him through the bars, "why aren't you in a cage?"

The dwarf turned to look at him in surprise, and then meekly shook his head.

"Wait!" Tick exclaimed as the dwarf hefted his cauldron. "Don't go!"

"I can't talk to you!" the dwarf whispered desperately. "I'll get in trouble!"

"Where are we going?" Tick persisted, determined to get answers.

The dwarf shook his hairless head again and waddled away.

Tick sighed and looked up to see the other slave trader turning to follow the dwarf, and he couldn't help but shiver. With his thick mustache and wide brimmed cowboy hat, he bared a startling resemblance to the last slaver Tick had encountered.

That just means Porter'll come and save me again, he thought, sitting back down on the splintery floor. And he'll pound his face in too, just like the last guy.

The trader took a step away, but then stopped.

"What the—" he asked, and looked down.

A tiny hand was wrapped around his keyring.

The hand belonged to Manchi.

"Hey!" the man screamed, slapping her wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

The dwarf, startled by the sudden uproar, dropped the cauldron. It went rolling down the hill, spilling its contents all over the grass.

"What's going on back there?" someone farther up shouted.

"The mutt's trying to steal my keys!"

Taking advantage of the distraction, Tick scrambled over to where Manchi was laying and pulled her to her feet.

"Back here," he whispered, and she followed him to the other end of the wagon, where the shadows were thicker. From here, Tick couldn't see what was happening to the dwarf, but he did hear something that sounded a lot like wood striking flesh. Repeatedly.

"Stupid little mutts!" the slaver growled, rounding on them. "You think getting away from us is that easy? I'll teach you a lesson."

Tick's pulse sped up. No, please.... not the cattle prods...