Ocean Blue

Chapter 4

(I'm a sucker for ponytail Katie)

Keith shoved through a crowd, trying to get to its center. It had been a week since he'd fought with Iverson, and he felt confident that Iverson had forgotten about the spat. "Hey, what's going on?"

Someone glanced at him. "Nothing you'd be interested in, Foundling."

Keith ignored the nickname that had followed him since Shiro had taken him in and pushed his way through the throng of people. When he got to the front, his stomach curled in revulsion. A slave market. Yeah, he definitely wasn't interested in that. But somehow, he couldn't tear his eyes away as a beautiful black girl with pure white- white!- hair and little pink tattoos under each eye was dragged forward. Her bearing was tall and regal, and she looked around at the buyers with contempt.

"How much for this beauty? A princess in her tribe, or so I'm told."

The girl gave the man a look of absolute disgust, but was sold anyway to a man who- Keith shuddered. He knew what went on with that man's female slaves. This regal girl didn't deserve that, not that any of them did. Her new owner grabbed her chains, and she planted her feet, yanking hard on the chains. The man was actually dragged forward from the force of it. She spat at him, and then allowed herself to be dragged away, still graceful and queenly in her movements.

Keith made a noise of disgust and moved away. Someone jeered at him, and he swung around ready to throw a punch before deciding better of it. Then a barb about Shiro was made, and he turned around and decked the other boy, the two of them scuffling on the ground.

The fight was a bit one-sided; the other boy never landed a hit on Keith. He was dragged off of his opponent by Iverson, who sighed.

"Get out of my sight."

Keith obliged, his feet taking him through the streets without any direction of his own conscious thinking. Night came fast, now that winter was dropping on him, and the sun was beginning to set.

He smelled something that made his stomach revolt against him, and he looked up. Hanging like laundry on a line were two men, strung up by their necks on the gallows. Their right sleeves were ripped open to reveal the damning "P" branded on their forearms. His own arm ached in sympathy, and he hurried away. He wouldn't let that be his own fate.

Keith found himself in front of the home of the man who'd bought the regal girl. He peered around at the slave house, a horrible little house where the man kept his slaves until they broke. The door was closed, but a key hung on a peg outside. Keith blinked at it in disbelief. No. Nothing could be this easy. Nothing would ever be this easy.

But it appeared that the universe was doing him a favor. He glanced around. No one was here. Good. He vaulted the fence and snatched the key, unlocking the house. He ventured inside, glad that the man kept his door well-oiled.

He heard a rustling in the rafters, and he cursed. Rats. Nasty little beasts. He continued looking for the slave girl

Something dropped down behind him, and cold metal looped around his throat, yanking on his windpipe.

"Think that you can defile me," a voice hissed in his ear, "Think that I'm some kind of plaything! I'll change your mind quickly!"

"No," Keith gasped, trying to suck breath in, "No- here- help—"

The slave girl scoffed. "Likely! Creep!"

"No- really—" Keith felt his body begin to shut down, the darkness of the room fading to a final black. "Key," he choked desperately with the last of the air in his lungs.