Part 5

A young teen finds herself with difficult decisions to make when thrust into a new chapter within the slave trade.

The quiet purr of the engine was so humble in its existence that she didn't notice it until it stopped. Her ears stood atop her head in alertness and her gaze swept about. Habib opened the door and exited the car with catlike grace, and turned and extended a gentlemanly hand to his passenger. Surani accepted his hand and he helped her out of the car, which huffed away once the door was closed.

 

“Oh, wow...” The massive estate that loomed before her was worthy of an infinite amount of kings. Too many fountains to count, too many floors to count, too many servants to count, a multitude of gateways and walls and terraces and doors lay ahead. However much he had spent on her was a drop in the bucket compared to how much this place was worth.

 

“I hope you will like it here.” Habib purred. “There's plenty of space for you to do as you wish. You may notice tassels, decorative ropes, hanging in a corner of the room. Ring it and you shall be attended to. I spend most of my time eating, sleeping, reading, or exercising, so you will find me in areas dedicated to doing as such.” He gave a long pause, drinking in the wonder in the young Tigress's eyes. “Welcome home, Surani.”

 

She spent another long moment taking in her new home before she turned her gaze up to Habib. “You live here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And now I live here.”

 

“Yes. But there's something I need of you, first.”

 

She gave a sigh, her heart dropping like a stone as her gaze fell to the artistic mosaics of the floor. Of course he needed something of her. After a moment, she raised her gaze to him again. When she spoke, it was without emotion. “How may I be of service?” The dreaded phrase. Oh, how she hated it.

 

The short bark of laughter that greeted her in turn was quite surprising, and the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. “Be calm, child, I am not asking you to fell an army. I merely need your hand.”

 

Resistance was futile, she knew this all too well. She was bound in slavery. Begrudgingly, she rested her paw in his. She jerked her hand back after experiencing a pinprick of pain, her eyes stinging with tears of betrayal. She gazed up at him with vulnerability and daggers -- the emotional pain was far worse than the physical. “Why did you hurt me?”

 

He held up a talisman. It was an ugly thing, not because of the way it looked, but because of the unknown dark forces it represented. Before her very eyes, the simple, blank wood morphed into a trinket of her face, but her stripes were blood red instead of orange.

 

“I am a magic-practitioner.” He smoothly stated. “Magic is so much more effective than the crude technology of our time. Blood magic is incredibly powerful. Your blood will allow you to roam the property freely; the doors will open for you, so to speak, regardless of whether or not there are literal locks on them.” Habib dropped the talisman over his great big orange and black head, and the trinket disappeared into folds of his robe. “I am sorry to harm you, my dear Surani. But the pain was only for the moment, and I promise never to harm you again... You may explore as you wish. I have some business to attend to.” With a curt nod, he turned and left her, his tail flicking and gliding inches above the ground.

 

His broad, muscular back sloped into a thin waist. His shoulders and arms and thighs were thick as tree trunks. His black, pointed ears stood atop his head like armed sentries. His paws, front and back, were so large, they could be used as oars. And then he disappeared around the corner. It wasn't until he was out of her sight that Surani realized with a blush that she had been staring at the fine specimen she now lived with.

Author's Note

This is a story set during the industrial revolution, in a parallel third world. Magic exists along with science, and sentient animals walk among man. I feel confident about this part, Act I, and I have a solid foundation for Act III, but I'm struggling with the bridge between the two: Act II. I would love some constructive criticism and some recommendations of how to continue the story and overcome writer's block.