The Protector and the Peacemaker

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

(Tick)

It was midday when the Caravan stopped again. Tick's back burned like fire, and he'd spent the past several hours sitting stiff as a board to keep the splintery wood that made up the walls and floor from rubbing his wounds. Manchi sat at the other end of the cage, curled into a ball.

"What's going on?" she asked fearfully as the wagon lurched to a halt.

"I hope they're going to feed us again," Tick said, gingerly getting to his feet. He carefully ran his hand down his back, wincing, and wasn't surprised to see his fingers come away wet with blood. He hastily wiped them clean on his shorts.

"Are you feeling better?" Manchi asked.

"Yeah," he lied. "I can hardly feel it at all now."

"Get up!" one of the slave traders yelled, rattling the bars on the cages as he made his way down the wagon train. "Wake up, you lazy weed bags! We got us a customer!"

He came to Tick and Manchi's cage, and Tick recognized him as the man who had whipped him last night. His face was still bruised from where his boss had slugged him. He scowled as he looked in on the chimeras, and pointed at them threateningly.

"You better keep yourselves in line, or I'll whip your skin off, you hear?"

Without waiting for them to respond, he banged his arm angrily against the bars and moved on.

"Customers?" Manchi asked, her voice meek. "What does he mean by that?"

"They're slave traders," Tick replied, his heart sinking into his stomach. "What do you think he means?"

Manchi's eyes widened in terror, and she leaped to her feet and ran to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Ow!" Tick complained.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, recoiling.

Before they could say anything else, they heard the lock on their cage door unlatch, and the door swung open.

"All right, get out and line up with the others!" the slave trader ordered.

Tick nodded furiously, not wanting to upset his captors any further. He took Manchi gently by the hand, but she resisted going to the door.

"It'll be okay," he assured her. "I promise."

Reluctantly, Manchi allowed herself to be led to the door. Tick momentarily let go of her hand so he could jump to the ground, and then reached up and helped her down as well. Just as the man had said, a line of Mythics was forming further up the Caravan. Tick tugged on Manchi's hand, trying to pull her towards the growing crowd.

"Get moving, freak!" the man exclaimed, and kicked Tick in the rear, sending him sprawling out on the ground. Tick scrambled to his feet and ran before he could kick him again. He could hear Manchi following close behind him. They reached the end of the line and stood at attention. Manchi whimpered, and Tick saw tears running down her cheeks.

The man who had saved Tick from his whipping last night swaggered out in front of them, leading a man and woman down the line. The man was wearing a fine suit and a pair of sunglasses. Tick vaguely recognized him as a famous actor. The woman sauntered around with the casual air of someone who had never worked a day in their life. A ridiculously large handbag hung from her arm, and a tiny dog poked its head out of the top, growling at the assorted Mythics.

"As you can see, Mr. Marrow," the slave trader said, speaking to the man, "we have a fine collection of monsters this year."

"Have you got any sirens?" the woman asked hopefully. "They've got lovely voices. We could have one sing to us at home."