She didn't know exactly what had happened. Somehow, she had been caught and she had found herself on a ship not much later. For weeks she had only been walked on deck for an hour a day. She had lost count of how many pails she had filled with vomit. After the ship, she had been in a city, taken out to patrol the countryside. Scouting villages to look for marath'damane with her handler.
In one such village, something strange had happened. As they were going past a line of girls and young women, suddenly the a'dam had become undone. As she had turned to look around, she saw her handler lying on the ground, crumpled in a heap. After a few moments of stunned surprise, she had bolted. How she got to this manor, she didn't know. She was in unfamiliar territory. All she knew is that she was free again. And she would not be caught again. She would die first.
An old smob makes a, hopefully much welcomed, return.
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