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Viveka could feel herself shaking. When her family had told her they needed her to come with them, she had went along easily enough. She had kissed her little brother, Sven, goodbye. She had not known where they were going or what they were doing.

What had she to fear?

The sun was high as she made her way along with her parents, neither speaking to her. She was unused to their silence. Trying again and again to start some sort of conversation, she failed. Her father would not look at her, and her mother had begun to softly cry.

Viveka's heart beat loudly and painfully in her chest, her throat was dry. Something was terribly wrong.
***
Her body was slick with sweat when they came up to a green and silver mare. Her face had a skull painted on it, and her silver hair was tied with snakes. She could feel herself backing away.

When her father spoke, she didn't know what to think of his words. They couldn't possibly be right. He was saying that they had sold her to pay off a debt, that she was to go with the mare as her "property" and that to do otherwise would be a dishonour.

The acidic horror of it boiled up into her throat, the bile stinging but she kept it down. She didn't look at her mother or her father, she couldn't--not ever again. They had sold her to...to this mare. What could she do but go with her? What choice did she have but to go?

Duty and honour forbade it. Her whole life she'd been raised that way...She had known it had been done by her people before, her people had sold children or family members before. But she had never expected it to happen to her.

She wanted to run...but then the debt would be owed still...and Sven....Oh, Sven. It was better her than him.

Her parents spoke to her, but she did not look at them, she did not speak to them. She knew why they did it...perhaps a little, but she could not bear to look at them again ever.

The soft sobs of her mother was the last thing she heard as they faded into the distance.

Artemis stood shoulder to shoulder with her father and her brother in the bright sunshine. Her eyes stung with the brightness of it as they stood there. Her father was busy doing something over by himself a few feet away. She knew that when he was in one of those pensive moods, not to bother him.

It was one of the rules that their family had. Leave him alone when he was off thinking, and the other was to always listen to him. He was the patriarch to the family and he knew best. So no questioning him, not that she ever did--she had not reason to.

She trusted her father implicitly, but it was Abellona that she trusted most in all the world. She was the other half of her soul, the sun to her moon...the best part of herself, the mirror of all she loved.

It was different. Standing here with her brother during the daylight hours, feeling a camaraderie with him that she had never ever felt before. She realized with a sudden gust of feeling that she loved him, truly loved him as flesh of her flesh and bone of her bones. She would die for him, would kill for him. She actually rather liked that part.

It was a rather shocking revelation to realized that she cared for him. She'd spent half of her life either indifferent or hating him or trying to kill him. But this was different.

She shifted uncomfortably, "I think father is right." He often was. "I think the night does change us. "Right now..." She tried to figure out how to explain it to him.

Artemis looked at the strong proud figure of her brother, and let his words seep into her mind and soul. Khonvoum would be her friend and protector during the day. It seemed strange after all this time of fighting that they could find common ground and common love.

Her--their father had taken them aside just last night when both their teeth had been bared and feral, ready to kill each other. He had told them that the night changed them, made them hate the others of their blood--at least ones that weren't their basket mates.

It felt true, it felt reasonable. She had always loved Abellona, and Khonvoum had always loved Nemesis and Nerebus, his basket mates. And the two sets of them had always made war against each other.

She remembered frenzied moments trying to rip out his flesh, before her father's icy tones had cut in and made her stop. He was her father, her master and creator, and his words had some sort of special hold on her--or so it seemed.

She said nothing else to Khonvoum, but leaned into his shoulder feeling the spiky feathers of his outstretched wings, pricking her skin.

Morsmordre had ignored the girl for the better part of the journey, because it had suited her. She was payment for services rendered and that was all. But as they moved on and the girl came along with no apparent desire to escape, Morsmordre found herself intrigued with her.

The girl was lovely, and swift on her feet. She wasn't whiny. She was small in stature, and well-groomed. She'd been told that the girl could both sing and dance. That she was well-liked by the stallions and would likely be an easy match to whoever wished to own her.

And they were her family saying these things, selling her for a debt they couldn't pay. She didn't care what the debt was. It really didn't matter and it was only merely interesting that her own family had sold her into this unsure life of slavery.

"It doesn't matter," she said back calmly. Her eyes darted around watching for the path, veering to the left she tugged the girl harder. "Your family sold you to me, and nothing else matters. You are mine now, and I mean to sell you."

She wasn't even sure why she even bothered to say that much. Must be the boredom getting to her.

She tugged the girl forward harder. She didn't have time for stupid questions and answers. The girl should learn. Hastily, she stopped. How would she learn, if she didn't teach her?

Turning to her, Morsmordre got very close--so close that she could see the girl shaking. She saw the girl go even paler than before. "You are a slave," she spit out the words. "You do not ask questions, you do not get answers."

She stared the girl down, letting her eyes bore into her and she watched the girl squirm. Viveka, she was called. Morsmordre felt a smile pulling at her lips. Leaning even closer, she bent down then brought her head up hard under Viveka's causing a shower of blood and a whimper from the other mare.

Morsmordre felt the blood in her mouth and she swallowed, licking at her bloody lip as she smiled. "A slave is for her master's whim. That's a taste of what you get for asking questions," she laughed wickedly before pulling a sobbing Viveka back on their way.

Khonvoum stood beside his sister speaking in low tones as the hours had passed. Their father had told them on the way here that they shared a special bond. That he had known or perhaps suspected how they would strive to kill each other, so he had bestowed to them a name of common bond. Artemis and Pahket, he had told them were the same--different names for the same hunter.

Khonvoum had been destined as a weapon, he had known that. He had known that his sister's purpose had been the same, but that his father meant for them to share the purpose and to work together...

Finally, he could see the overall scheme of things. Together, they could take on the world. They could write their own history. They were all beasts of the hunt.