Trix heard his words and understood them. He wouldn't take sound advice from a slave. She continued the riding motion, trying to pay attention to anything else he did with the horse, relaxing her grip on the mane. When he asked for her name, she almost answered automatically. But she wanted to hold onto that small part of her. So she didn't answer with Trix, rather, [color=f6989d][i][b]"I am called Verissa."[/b][/i][/color] It was the name her mother had given her, and she was the only one that called her that. It seemed fitting, for Trix was the nice, kind herbalist in Ebonfort. Verissa could be the Screamer slave. She didn't ask for his, as she'd heard it earlier, and continued the ride in complete silence.

They rode around some rocks and suddenly there was a camp before her. Her new home, she realized. It wasn't as scary as some of the knights had made them out to be. There weren't people dying on stakes and skulls of slain people as decorations. It was quaint, comfortable looking even, reminded her of when she'd visited Silent Rise. At least she had that comfort. It was very busy, more people than she'd expected to see, especially this time of night. The air seemed celebratory, with a successful raid she assumed. As the horse slowed to a walk, it was much easier to maintain her posture, as she could feel the physical weariness setting in. She leaned tiredly against the horse's neck, making sure to keep her hips slid back against Asher, as they passed a large tent filled with injured people. Her heart ached, knowing that wasn't going to be her life anymore. 

Then she heard her pups growl, followed by many other growls that didn't belong to them. Immediately she tried to extricate herself from the horse, her back cramping up and her wincing in pain, hissing through her teeth. She heard Asher call to a man, and soon the pups were beneath her, look up at her from next to the horse. She smiled at each of them, so proud that they'd managed to keep up. They were her only family now, her only friends. They stuck close now that they were at a walk, sentry eyes checking every person and creature for threat. Eventually they arrived at a huge tent, well lit and active.

Suddenly Asher was not behind her, and she felt her hips slide back just a bit, finding a bit more comfort. She heard his hiss of pain as he dismounted, wondering just what the state of his injuries were. Trix eyeballed the girl, who seemed to be about the same age as her, wondering if she was a slave or native. She heard her speak, about a Warlord, which she knew from stories was their leader. And that she called him Swordmaster. She didn't know how prestigious such a title was, but the fact that he had one meant he was important too. She watched him take her bag, wondering if it was his bag now. 

When he gave her the command, she reached her hands out, using them to support herself on his, and slid off to the side he was at. This threw her terribly off balance, and she found herself falling toward the Swordmaster. She felt herself collide with his chest, wincing painfully, before realizing she'd not hit the ground. He'd caught her, with ease it seemed. She found herself inches from his face, her hair a mess all over, and for a brief moment, her face looked thankful. Once she was back on solid ground, she immediately turned away from him, crouching down to her pups that were already at her side. She'd heard his words to the girl, knowing someone would be along soon to "keep an eye on her." As if she was going to run in manacles while in the middle of a village of Screamers. 

She patted her pups lovingly, inspecting them for injuries, satisfied that there was nothing more than minor scratches. They licked at her face and snuggled in close, as she awkwardly put her arms over them in a manacled hug, crying into Remus' fur. At least she still had them. She was still crying as she heard Asher's footsteps leave, and eventually, another set arrive. She looked up, wiping away her tears, wondering who her babysitter would be.