PROLOGUE
I felt someone's presence behind me. My breathing stuttered and I slowly turned around. A tall, coppered skin man towered over me, grinning with a smile that made it even harder to keep my stomach in place. His dark eyes bore into my soul and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
A whimper escaped my lips. His smile encased white teeth, perfectly lined up. His eyes then left mine and went to the crowd. He stepped in front of me and shot his fist in the air, showing victory. The crowd cheered and the tall native grinned with pride.
Why was I here? This shouldn't be me. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't deserve this!
The tall native looked to be six feet in heighth. Strong muscles wove around his thick bones, veins popping from his tanned skin.
"Now, I will talk pale-face so it can understand," he laughed. The crowd joined in with chuckles.
For some reason I felt embarrassed from what he said. The natives stared at me like I was an animal, ready to put on a show. He turned back to me and pulled out a stone-like knife and spun me around. He cut my bounds and faced me back toward the crowd. Like my ankles, my wrists began to bleed.
"Our land will soon be ours again!!" he roared, making me jump.
"But while the pale-face is here, we should have some fun!!"
My hands began to shake and I felt tears well in my eyes. He turned to me and put his lips to my ear. He hissed, "Ready to play?"
(This story takes place in the 18th century)
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