FSE

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[Author's Note]: Just a few quick things to cover. First of all, I didn't realise when first writing exactly how dark this story actually is. It skirts some very touchy themes and I don't wish to offend anyone so please beware. This story contains references and indirect description of non-consensual sexual contact for the purposes of plot and character establishment, not for sexual gratification. It also contains graphical violence, infrequent bad language and infrequent consensual sex.

Right, now that that's out of the way; this story is told from a first-person perspective and takes place over a number of years, so it frequently jumps forward in time. It's split into three acts, each with an, as of yet, undetermined number of chapters. It is a predominantly M/M story but has M/F elements. Some chapters will be raunchy whilst others will be violent and some will be clean. If you are not looking for a fully fleshed out story or are offended by anything mentioned above, this is my attempt at fair warning.

Also note that Chapter 2 was originally twice as long, but has recently been been split into two chapters, so expect Chapter 3 really soon. Please rate and comment. It all aides the writing process ^___^

Preface

My name is Kyren. Many of you will know me as the aptly named Sun-Touched Sabre. But for those of you who don't, know that I am simply a man who sought to bring peace to Calael. Since then I have seen many things, horrible things, all done out of our misguided belief in honour. For we Panthren are a race who have always valued our honour above all else; above empathy, above reason, above love. We have sought honour in service to our leaders, honour to hold up to our family names, honour in battle and honour in our ideals. But in a galaxy of perpetual war, honour seems little more than an antiquated belief, an outdated tradition that we hide behind to shield us from the truth, that there is a line between a man's honour and his principals, a lesson it took me all too long to learn.

For I was once like you, shedding blood out of a sense of duty, ignoring the wound I was carving in my own soul, not out of malice or cruelty or blind ignorance... But simply because I was, by honour, bound...

Act 1 - A lost Soul

What makes a person do what they do? Throughout my life, I have made decisions and held ethics that few Panthren have understood. I am nothing but my memories and my regrets, and I have tried to forge a better future on the lessons they've taught me. It has always been my belief that to understand the motives, you must understand the man. Most think they know my history, that i was found feirce and feral on Ellythia and recruited into the New Pathren Empire, but the truth is far more complex. Before the war there was not a man, just a scared and confused little boy, crying out for a place in the universe. This is the beginning... These are my origins...

Chapter 1 - Childhood

I was born on the out-world Curraugh III. I only know this because of the symbols painted red above my door, symbols I did not know how to read until years later: FiiDC-O694/CRiii

I don't have many fond memories of my childhood. My first memory is the strike of a paw across my face. My second is sitting in freezing mud, shivering as the rain falls on my damp, blonde fur and leaning against a locked, wooden door. But the memory that stands out clearest is of my father handing the metal chain around my neck to my new owners in exchange for a purse of coin, telling them that he can't bear to look at me because, every time he does, he sees the face of my mother.

I was five years old when I was bought by and raised in a Domestication Centre on Ferros II. The things I saw there, the things I had to endure, still haunts my dreams and will stay with me until the day I die.

But none of that fear and loathing is present in mu memories of the day I arrived. I thought I had been rescued from the abusive arms of my father and given me a home. As the truck rolled up through the tall gates of the compound, I thought I'd been brought to the biggest farm I'd ever seen. Farms were scarce on Curraugh III and the soil was poor. I thought I'd been brought to live my life tending herds and growing my own food, to have a good life.

I lived in a six-by-six foot box for six years of my life. The thinnest dusting of straw on the floor, barely enough to lay my head on when piled up, was what constituted a bed in the Domestication Centre C12. It was draftee, the floor was an uneven, pebbly concrete and my door was a thick, metal monstrosity with a tiny window about two-times my height above me and a slit for forcing food through. But perhaps saddest of all is that, for the first few months, I was actually pleased to be there. On Curraugh III my father would lock me outside at night, in the dust storms and the rain, and whatever food I ate I had to scavenge for myself, from the little that the similarly starving population threw away. I actually gained weight from the two small servings of stale, mouldy leftovers they pushed through my door. It was enough to keep me alive and keep me working. And there was never a lack of work...

Anyone who's visited a DC will know about the Indenturing programs, what we called the 'school,' and the labour intensive workforce projects, but many will not know how deeply divided these centres really are. Yes, these centres would train their best and brightest to be eloquent speaking servants and maids for rich families and noble houses. And they also would train children in farming and labouring to bolster the workforces of Panthren society. But make no mistake, no matter how they were dressed up, these centres were the breeding grounds of slavery on par with the treatment of Boaren, especially for those of us who never had the chance to be sold. I suffered severely from the lash the first year I was there, both for my failures and simply because I made a popular target for the general anger or dissatisfaction of the handlers. I'm sure I would not have survived the next four years if it hadn't been for the day I met Mistress Relis, the closest thing I ever had to a mother... Although it pains and disgusts me to say it.

There was only limited space in the 'school' for training children in the mannerisms of high society. Every time an adolescent was sold someone needed to be found to replace them. So that's why I was standing out in the dusty courtyard at the heart of the DC. Around me, in rows and columns, over two hundred children had been gathered and arrayed for inspection. It was a cool day, made worse by a chill wind that cut easily through the thin cloth of my ragged clothes. But we had been told to stand straight and remain perfectly still. The punishments for not doing so were not just no food that evening and a lash across the arms, but something far worse, something that cut far deeper that they had instilled in us.

We would be dishonouring ourselves.

They talked about honour a lot in the Centre. We were taught that honour was what made a Panthren worth his salt. All the greatest heroes and leaders in our history were honourable men and women and you obtained honour via loyalty and obedience, by hard work and accomplishment. The quest for honour became almost messianic. If we ever wanted to have a chance of leaving the Centre, finding homes and better lives, we would have to act in an honourable manner. So I worked hard in the fields, I sweated and toiled until I was ready to drop. I slaved in the workshops making shoes and hats and rope until I had blisters on my paws and feet. I was proud of my achievements.

And so that's why I was so confident that day, why my chest swelled with pride as the owner of the Centre, Master Zanders, a moss green coloured Panthren, came down from his manor on the hill in order to personally select new candidates for the program. The previous day there had been a bulk buy of both labourers and house servants for some big estate in the North. I knew I didn't stand a chance of being picked for the school - only those with the darkest fur ever got that privilege - but there was always the chance I would become one of the market-ready labourers. They were just like us; they toiled in the fields, they learned how to repair clothes and machinery, they worked in the dusty, oily workhouses. But they were fed more than us and trained how to properly address potential buyers who came to the Centre, the ones Master Zanders paraded before committees and customers. It was every indentured labourer's dream to be one of them.

Master Zanders paced before the front row of boys and girls with his paws clasped behind his back. Despite being middle-aged, he still projected the strength and vibrancy of a man half his age, most probably because of how he towered over us all, even the older amongst us. Even the handlers looked at his with a terrified reverence, although that was most likely because of the wealth and power he wielded and them knowing exactly where their pay came from. He was talking with the head handler, a gruff Panthren we called Master Blake who had a scar that ran from his temple to his maw. They paced between the rows of children, occasionally walking over to a child that caught Master Zanders' eye, all at a pace that seemed more comfortable for the aging Panthren than his younger, healthier counterpart.

"How about this one?" the deadpan Blake asked, pointing to out a girl a few years older than me standing to their collective left. Zanders cast a half-curious, half-dismissive gaze over her.

"Maybe," he mused. "A little on the bright side for my liking. Darker is always better. Behaviour can be taught. Colour can't."

"Of course," said Blake, refusing to commit emotion to the argument. They walked on, coming further back down the columns whilst drifting further to my left.

"How many more spaces are there for the school again?" asked Zanders.

"Eleven now, sir. And thirty-two labourers." Zanders paused and contemplated a moment, then shook his head and turned on his heels, coming back in my direction.

"Ah, now this is a prime candidate," he said gleefully, walking up to a Panthren with pale green fur, almost lime coloured and twice my age. "Broad shouldered, firmly built. Yes, get some food into him, proper food I mean, and he'll sell well I'm sure."

"Not to second guess," Blaked said, intending to do just that, "but might I point out his fur." Zanders stroked a long wisp of hair on his chin, making him suddenly look very much like the villain in some pantomime, although having never seen one at that age, I could not make the comparison at the time.

"Maybe," he replied. "But... Hmmm, maybe it's just my bias shining through, but I've always thought green to be a dignified colour for a worker.

"Of course... sir," Blake said, betraying a hint of disapproval in the odd subtext of his unusual method of his speech.

Hearing that filled me with hope. I had put on a few pounds of muscle in the last month from working so hard and I did what I could to emphasise it, standing there, prostrating myself before these men shamelessly in the hopes that I might pass some arbitrary checklist in their minds.

Zanders moved on, commenting on how two adolescent girls with dirty, mottled fur might stand to put on a few pounds and choosing them for the school. He was four rows ahead now and I could hear his voice clearly over the deadpan silence, broken only by the occasional cough or blustering of the wind. Round the edges of the courtyard stood the other handlers, wearing the dirty brown dustcoats that protected them from wind and rain whilst working us in the fields.

Blake said something the Zanders about the Cyrent Confederacy which was too complicated, but I will forever remember the beginning of Zanders' response.

"Oh, I don't think so. A war on the out-worlds will create a momentary downturn but-" He stopped. He was looking straight at me, over the sea of heads. I made eye contact only for a fraction of a second, snapping my gaze straight forward as it should have been. There was silence, then at speed, Zanders came careering towards me, pushing boys and girls out of his ways as he moved. Nervously, I looked at him, then reared back a step as he towered over me. The next moment, his paw was gripping me by the collar of my dusty shirt and rattling me.

"What's this? What the hell is this!" he cried at Blake, who had followed quickly in his wake.

"I-" Blake began in that noncommittal tone.

"It's a bleached. What the hell's this thing doing on my farm?" he was yelling. Quickly, the other handlers moved towards us. Zanders' grip was tightening and I could feel the cloth cutting into the back of my neck. I started to tremble and tears pooled in my eyes. "Look at it!" Zanders was screaming.

"Mister Zanders, sir, I thought we took any children who could work," came a disembodied voice from behind me, possibly the one who had bought me from my father.

"So this is your fault? What by Resala and all the stars in the sky am I paying you people for? Look at it! It's fur is so blonde it's almost white."

"But surely it can-" began the voice.

"I don't want to hear it. What if a customer saw this when they were here? My reputation would be ruined. There's bleached and then there's bleached."

The way he said that cut deepest of all. I really had thought that hard work was all it would take to overcome their detestation. I thought, if I proved I could do my tasks just as well as everyone else, they might overlook the limitations of my fur.

"Then what would you have us do with it?" Blake asked in that eerily flat voice.

"Do with it? I don't know, just get rid of it." He let go of me and I dropped to my knees coughing. "Take it out to the refuse site and shoot it." At that, I looked up in shock, straight into the eyes of Blake. Like his voice, his face betrayed no emotions about his appointed task. Zanders, meanwhile, was looking down at another boy nearby, obviously traumatised by the whole ordeal, who was sobbing. "And shoot this one too if it continues to dishonour itself and me." Immediately, the boy began cocking back on his tears, his shoulder shrugging every so often as he tried to stifle his sobbing.

That's when I heard her voice for the first time.

"Just a minute, Mister Zanders," called a female voice. I looked up to see a grey Panthress pacing quickly through the rows of children from my right. That's when I first saw her. She wasn't a particularly attractive Panthress - not that I knew anything about that at that age - but she had an ample bosom and a taut, muscular frame for a woman of her size, which rippled under the tight, white shirt she wore under her dust coat.

"Ah, Relis. I should have known this was your doing," Zanders said accusingly. "He's yours I assume."

Mistress Relis stood with her paw on her hip, an air of aloofness that seemed at odds with the tenseness of the situation.

"Actually, I've only just got back from Vezustra. Been gone nine months, didn't you notice? Never seen this one before today," she said, gesturing at me with her closest paw, all the while not braking eye contact with Zanders, who was now glaring at her.

"Yes sir, he's on my roster," came the familiar voice of my handler, Master Warris, as he stepped out to my right. He must have been standing quietly behind me, unsure or unwilling to mention his complicity in harbouring me, as though I was now some sort of criminal. Zanders' gaze flitted between the two of them.

"You should have told me immediately," he said to Warris. "And you." He pointed and accusing finger at Relis. "Don't get snippy with me... I suppose you're going to suggest an ulterior course of action. What happened to your last one?"

"You sold him, remember? Against my firmest objections, naturally." Zanders' face lined with more wrinkles as he scowled at her.

"I don't know why I keep such an insubordinate handler around, I really don't."

"Because I'm the best you got," she countered, full of confidence. "Let me have him and I'll keep him out of sight. The two glared at each other for a few moments more, then Zanders snapped at Warris "Can it work?"

"Yes sir. In fact, he's actually-"

"Fine," Zanders cut him off. "Five hundred," he said to Relis.

"Two. That's more than you'll get for him anywhere else." Zanders look down his snout at me, still pathetically clutching my neck on the floor, afraid to move in case I should anger anyone even more than I already had. He growled, exposing a row of incisors dulled by age, then said "Get it out of here." Relis smirked and walked over to me. She reached down and took me by the paw, hauling me up onto my feet.

"Which block is-" she began.

"K, cell 694," Warris interrupted.

"Great. Come on, come with me sweetheart," she said in a friendly, caring tone, leading me away.

"But remember, it still belongs to me. You're just paying for the privilege," Zanders called after me.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make the most of him."

That was when the alarm bells should have first started ringing.

Mistress Relis led me away from the courtyard as the selections went back to normal again, back towards block K.

"Uh... Th- thank you M- Mistress Relis," I mumbled nervously. She turned and looked down at me and for the first time I took note of her pale, lavender eyes. They were like nothing I had ever seen before, beautiful, piercing.

"You're welcome sweetie," she said, looking down at me as she led me on. "But when we're alone... call me Mummy." For a moment, my heart soared. Mummy? Mummies were people who cared. No one had ever cared about me before. I blushed and my pace must have slowed slightly as she noticed. "What's wrong? Do you miss your Mummy? I didn't mean to upset you."

"I- I've never had a Mummy," I said soberly.

"Awww, don't worry," Relis cooed. "Mummy's going to give you all the love and attention you need from now on.

She continued to lead me in the direction I was always marched back to block K, behind the storage shacks and the warehouses, where all the blocks for the less desirable children were kept out of sight. But as we rounded the corner of the shoe shop, we didn't take the next right, onto the street that harboured the block. Nor did we take the next, nor the next.

"Mi... Mummy," I said hesitantly, "this isn't the way back."

"Mummy knows that. But there's somewhere we have to go first."

She lead me into parts of the Centre I hadn't seen before, to the places where the old equipment was stored and the machinery was kept. Eventually, we came to a large shed with a black and red sign and a picture of a tractor on it. She unlocked the thick padlock on the front of the wooden shack, which was showing early signs of rot, and then held open the door.

"Go on," she said.

"I... I-I-I don't want to Mummy," I said nervously. "It's dark."

"Don't worry, Mummy's going to take care of you," she said softly, taking me by the paw and leading me in.

The inside of the building was empty, save for a few benches and worktops around the sides littered with tools. There were no vehicles in sight and the dry oil marks on the ground were old and fading. Even at that age, I knew something was wrong.

"I don't like this. I want to go back," I said feebly. For the first time, Miss Relis' pale lavender eyes became unsettling, glowing with a certain intensity as she closed the door and the light in the building became dim.

"Not yet, sweetie. Mummy wants us to get to know each other." I shuffled back.

"But... But, won't Master Warris be angry with me for not being in my room?"

"Master Warris won't hurt you anymore," she said confidently.

"I don't want to be here," I said, this time more defiantly. Relis paused, her eyes narrowing. She dropped to one knee.

"Look, Mummy did something nice for you and now you have to do something nice for her." She put a paw on my head and ruffled the tuft of hair between my ears. "So why don't we play a game? Hmm?"

I looked up at the two lavender eyes peering down from her darkened shape.

"What sort of game?" I asked.

"Well," she began slowly, getting down on both her knees and sitting back on her feet right in front of me, "It's a special game. It's a game that only Mummies play and it's secret, so you mustn't tell anyone or it will make Mummy really sad. You don't want to make Mummy sad, do you?" Immediately I cast my mind back to the last one of us who upset one of the handlers and how much he cried after the lashings he got.

"N-No, Mummy," I said, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

"Good boy," she cooed, rubbing me behind the ear. "Now the rules of the game are; Mummy will do something to make you feel nice, then you do what Mummy tells you to make her feel nice." Although I knew something wasn't right, the knot in my stomach began to loosen. This game didn't sound like it would be that bad.

"Okay. I'll d-do my best," I said. Relis' smiled widened.

"That's my boy," she said before leaning towards me. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close, cuddling me against her chest. I don't think I'd ever felt the warmth of another person before. I opened my arms and wrapped them as far as I could around her waist, letting out a little murmur as I absorbed her heat as I pressed my cheek against her body. I knew she wasn't my real mother, but it was just nice to pretend.

"Mmmm, do you like that?" she breathed. I nodded. "Mmmmm, me too." With that she held me tighter. "Mummy knows how to make you warmer," she whispered and placed a paw on the back of my head. She pulled my head back slightly and I looked up at her over her bosom. Then, in the next instant, I found my face buried between the breasts. Instantly I caught the subtle, musty smell of her off her fur. I assumed this was just a more efficient way of keeping warm, but as she did this, Relis let out a pleasure-filled sigh.

"Ah, Mummy likes that." After a couple of minutes, she pulled me back looked down again with those eyes.

"Now it's your turn to do something nice for Mummy." I beamed up at her, knowing nothing of what was in store. She leaned forwards and kissed me of the forehead. I felt the warmth permeate from her lips and a shiver ran through my body. She pulled back and looked at me, then planted another kiss on my forehead, then another on my cheek, and another, and then something changed when she planted on my lips. I knew something wasn't right about this, especially when the kissed dragged on. Her lips began to caress my face and I felt what seemed like her tongue. I pushed away.

"Now, now," she said in an unnervingly soothing voice, "don't upset Mummy." This time, when she leaned in and tried to kiss me, she ran her paw up my thigh. I squirmed. What had felt good suddenly felt wrong, out of place.

"No... please," I strained.

"I won't let you go until you do something nice for Mummy."

Her paws were now all over me. She grabbed me by the bum and lifted me up so I couldn't get away. I began to wriggle nervously but I couldn't break free of her grasp... She took my paw in hers and forced me to touch her, first on the chest, my palm rhythmically circling on her flesh and fur, and then slowly, cautiously enough that I didn't extend my claws, lower down.

It was dark when she handed me back over to Warris. I didn't say a word as I was led back to my room and sealed in. Without a sound, I lay down in the corner of the room, curled up in my own arms and let the dark overcome me...

...it wouldn't be the last time I did so...

Chapter 2 - Rescue

It was four years later. During that time, Mistress Relis would visit my room or would come and find me working on more occasions than I can bear to remember. Each time I would be led away and come back more confused and closed-off than before. I should have spent my entire life at the Centre, being what I am and the times being what they were. I would have died there if it had not been for one off-paw decision, one freak occurence, an act of Panthren greed... and a scrap of decency.

I had my eyes shut so tightly that tears were running down the sides of my face, dampening the fur around my cheeks. I tried to thick of something happy and, failing that, somewhere else I would rather be than there. I was lying on my back, with the entire weight of Miss Relis atop me. My paws were on her thighs by her demand, but my mind was trying to be anywhere else.

"That's it. Yes! Give me a bleached baby!" she cried as she began another series of powerful gyrations.

"Please... wait..." I winced, but it was no use. She was too strong and, as I tried to sit up, her paws came down on my shoulders, her elbows pinning my own paws to the ground. I had no control. I couldn't stop. In my shock, my eyes opened and I caught those horrifying, lavender eyes peering down at me. Just as I let out a little, whimpering snarl, her head shot back and a growl thundered from her throat and both our bodies shook. It was over... at least for now. Relis' fur was damp with sweat. Her chest heaved as she took in mouthfuls of air. Her thighs still kept me pinned to the floor, but I had enough room and energy to sit up on my elbows. I wiped away the sweat and tears on my face with a palm, my paw still shaking nervously. Then, to my surprise, when I removed my paw I was greeted by a strong, lightning fast smack across the face.

"Don't ever deny me again! Remember your place you dishonourable cur!" she snarled.

"Yes Mistress," I murmured, twisting to one side to hide both my wound and a fresh bout of tears.

Fifteen minutes later and I was following Mistress Relis - having grown tired of her name I had to call her about a year beforehand - back out across the fields. The entirety of the land the Centre owned covered over three hundred acres, most of it being fields and farmland. But only one quarter was ever worked at a time and that was subsequently divided into further quarters, as the growing period of most of the Centre's produce was a little under three months. Being situated near the warm equator, at least one crop was being planted, growing, coming into seed and being harvested at any time in the year. That meant there was always work to be done and there was cheaper method than to send us out to do by paw what it would have cost precious fuel and deliberation to do with a machine, let alone the costs of maintenance and repair.

"Found this one trying to escape again," Relis said loudly enough for all the children in my work group to hear. I kept my head down and just walked as she guided me on, her paws on my shoulders. I came to a stop at the top of a deep ditch the others had been digging. Without looking up, I could tell who the two strong, sturdy legs standing before me belonged to.

"Again, hmmm? Well, we'll have to see what Master Zanders says about yet another dishonourable act. One thing's for sure, no dinner tonight. Does that seem fair?" I nodded quietly. "Good. Now we're digging an irrigation ditch. You've got more than your fair share of work to catch up on." He picked up a shovel and pawed it to me. I took it in both paws and walked over to the edge.

"Damn you for making me cover for you like this. You'll owe Zanders for the missed workhours," I heard Master Warris whisper a little too loudly.

"The money's good. I can do what I like," Relis replied, completely unfazed, as she began to walk away.

"You're despicable."

"Tell that to Mordif and Juufan," she called out as I was just beginning to descend into the ditch.

"Trust me, I do," I heard Master Warris mutter.

Out of all the handlers, the orange furred Master Warris was the least terrifying. He still worked us hard, but we never felt like our lives were threatened around him. He was very honest and upfront, he almost never used his lash, he didn't seem to work in the DC out of choice, and, most importantly, he and Relis really didn't seem to get along. That was why I always felt safe around him.

I trod carefully down the wet, slippery mud of the ditch's side, trying my best to keep my balance. But on my way down, I felt the swift tug of something metal behind my ankle and I went cascading down the remainder of the ditch in a cartwheel, landing in a gangly, muddy mess at the bottom. I lifted my face from the muck and wiped it with my sleeve, only to realise I had probably put more mud on that taken off. Around me, I could hear the other children quietly snickering to avoid drawing the wrath of Warris.

I pushed myself up onto my knees and looked at my clothes, then up the ditch at those working on digging out the sides. Directly where I had stepped down a cinnamon furred boy around the same age as me was shovelling mud, but looking down at me with a self-satisfied smirk. He thought what he'd done had gone unnoticed, but that was before Warris strode behind him, looking down from the path and yelled "You! Six, forty five! Here! Now!" The boy turned in shock and terror and just stared at the spot Warris was pointing to by his feet. "Now!" The boy shot me an angry glance as he ascended the muddy slope. "Don't look at him. You know what you did!" The boy stopped at my Warris' side and stretched out his arms. One quick thwack from his lash and Warris sent him back down. I think that was only the third time I had ever seen him use his lash in the entire time I had been at the centre and, compared to most handlers, Master Warris' lashes sounded tame, almost restrained. By this time I had risen to my feet, wiped off the excess mud caked on my clothes and started to shovel in earnest. A few minutes later I risked a glance under my arm only to catch many of the others looking back at me, icy glares across their faces. Whether they were blaming me for the lashing, despising me for having avoided yet more work or just generally hating me for all the attention I seemed to get, I don't know. All I know is that, by this point, there were far more reasons for them to despise me now beyond the paleness of my fur.

I shovelled like there was no tomorrow that day in some vain attempt to prove I was not a special case, I was not a slacker, that I could do the work anyone else could. I don't even know who I was trying to prove it to; the other children, Master Warris... maybe. Or perhaps I was just trying to prove to myself that I was still a person. That night, it was a physical effort just to make it back into my room. I shuffled into my room and leaned against the wall, sliding down until I was sat with the souls of my hind paws flat to the floor, head hung between my shoulders, contemplating just how I was going to make it through another day. I couldn't even curse Mistress Relis' name because, for all her beastial intentions, not a single handler ever took their paw or lash to me once she made it clear I was hers. She didn't like the idea of anyone spoiling her possessions and most of the other handlers were, quite rightly, afraid of her.

"Dinner! Dinner!" I heard Warris calling down the corridor and the subsequent patter of boots as other staff, and possibly other children, carried trays of food and distributed them to the rooms. I counted six sets of footsteps pass by my door and heard the dry, rusty creaks of the slits of other children's doors all down the line as the bolts were pulled back, food was pushed through and then the bolts were replaced. I only counted half the normal number of creaks that day, which was worrying. Not all of us were at the ditch today, I thought But I know I heard the others in their rooms when I came in.

It was troubling. There had been a lot of turnover recently. A lot of children had been getting sick again, which was a common occurrence in a place so densely packed with people. But normally they were taken away for treatment and were back in a few days, certainly after a few weeks. Lately, I'd been seeing a lot of new faces. But, then again, I never had chance to get to know the others. What little chance we did have to talk amongst ourselves, whilst working far out in the tall wheat where we couldn't be seen, or at night in our cells, no one ever bothered to talk to me. After a couple of years, I just stopped bothering to communicate altogether. Maybe the others knew something I didn't. Maybe they were being sold. Maybe they were being relocated. I overheard some of the adults talking about going to 'the other site.'

I listened to the rattling of trays in the other rooms and the pounding footsteps as they got closer and further away again, leaving the same way they had come. I rolled onto my side and clasped my arms around my chest, preparing for another cold night. I just started to drift off when I heard a quiet creak, not from the left or right of my room, but in front of it. I lifted my head and looked down between my toes just to see a paw disappearing through the slat in the door, leaving a small tray of food behind. I rubbed my eyes, just to make sure I wasn't delirious. It was still there. My whole portion of food for the night, the one I had been told I wouldn't have. At that moment, something broke inside me. I looked at the food not as the kind offering it was probably intended as, but as a symbol of my inferiority. Any other child who was told they wouldn't be fed wouldn't, because they could take it. But I, the pathetic little bleached, couldn't be expected to make it through one night. There's only so many times you can be told that you're worthless, that you're nothing and that both society and the species would be better off without you, before it starts to sink in. So I took the food and with tears in my eyes I ate every single bite. I devoured it all, doing my best to avoid sobbing loud enough that anyone could hear. That night I slipped into a torturous, restless sleep asking myself just how many more days it would be before I was never seen again.

Nearly three weeks later, we had been rotated into working in one of the sweatshops. 'Product Facilities' is what they were known as when we were there, but make no mistake about what they really were.

It had been a long day. I had been forced to stand at a conveyor belt for eleven hours attaching circuit boards to the insides of casing for some sort of laser or rocket, they never really told us what. We all wandered out of the factory tired, dirty and aching from the repetitive work. The supervisor of that particular division of the factory had pawed us back to Warris for the night and we were being led towards out block.

"Pick up the pace. The faster you walk the faster we get home," Warris said. We collectively trundled and limped faster. On our way back across the centre, we had to pass by the school. It was the closest we ever got to seeing what it was actually like in there. Then, as we were passing by the back of the building, the rear doors opened and an accented, well-spoken voice poured out.

"-even better than I remember it being. You certainly have done well for yourself these passed few years Victor." From the doorway emerged a man in his mid-fifties, wearing a black suit embroidered with gold around the lapels, cuffs and all along the seams. The hair between his ears was long and hung back down his neck in a neatly braided ponytail. His fur was a deep, deep emerald green, almost black. He was the noblest looking Panthren I had ever seen. And walking alongside him were Master Zanders and a young Panthren, also dressed in a smart suit, this time with silver embroidery. He also had extremely dark fur, so dark in fact that at such a distance I couldn't make out what. All of this I saw in an instant, because the moment we saw him I began to panic, remembering what Zanders had said about outsiders seeing me. Luckily, Warris didn't hesitate.

"This way," he said to all of us and moved us back to the gap between the ends of two locked blocks. With no time to stash me in one, he stood at the corner and shoved me behind himself.

"Don't move from that spot," he said over his shoulder as he hid me. "Don't speak, for god's sake don't do anything." Then he turned to the others. "All of you, don't say anything unless spoken to and address them only as Sir." I couldn't see anything from behind Warris. All I could hear was the approaching footsteps.

"Ah, Warris," Zanders said in a gleeful voice which was clearly masking an inner nervousness. "What- What brings you out here?"

"Your Lordship," I heard Warris say, an address I had never heard before. For a moment I thought he was talking to Zanders. "We've just come from the workshop Mister Zanders. Teaching the children the intricacies of electronics. Weren't we children?" I can only assume they all nodded silently, as there was not a sound and not a single threat ushered.

"This is Mister Warris, Lord Telequinn. He is one of our finest tutors," continued Zanders, his voice now noticeably more relaxed than it had been, having obviously realised I was nowhere in sight.

Telequinn? I thought. I've heard that before.

"My, my, Victor. Electronics training too? You truly have outdone yourself. Is there anything you don't teach them?" I thought I heard what sounded like someone sucking in a breath to speak, but no words ever came. "Vayren, you could really stand to- Vayren?" Lord Telequinn sounded confused and suddenly anxious. "Vayren, where are you?"

"Here father," came a reply a few moments later, the reply of a young boy, most presumably the boy who had been walking with them.

"Vayren, how many times must I caution you about wandering off by yourself?"

"I only went around the block for a quick look, father," he protested in a similarly accented and eloquent voice. Zanders and I both turned in unison to look behind us. If he's gone around the block then... No, it was a dead end. This block was a much larger, U-shaped building. He hadn't walked behind us and seen me.

What was a sigh of relief for Warris over his job was a shiver of momentary shock disappearing when I realised that I would, quite literally, be allowed to live another day.

"Boys will always be adventurous Hayzon," Zanders said. "And he won't come to harm here. All our facilities are quite safe and our staff is well-trained." Lord Telequinn let out a chuckle.

"I'm most definitely sure they are. But if only Vayren could stop day-dreaming and just find himself a personal guardian..."

"Ooh father, you know I've looked," began the boy. "I just haven't seen any I like. None of them are interesting at all."

"Vayren, don't be so rude in front of Mister Zanders."

"Don't worry Hayzon," Zanders interceded smoothly. "What you saw today is but a small selection of the indentured servants we have to offer. I'm sure young Vayren will find what he seeks tomorrow."

"Well don't let us keep you, my lord," Warris said.

"It was a pleasure," replied Lord Telequinn.

The conversation continued as the three moved away. After they had moved out of sight, Warris pulled me out from behind himself. I was expecting him to spout something abusive about how much easier things would be if I didn't exist, but he simply shipped us all off home in silence... not a word... When we finally got back to block K, Warris held the door to let us all inside. But just as I was entering - the last in the line - I felt two paws come down on my shoulders... Two familiar, terrifying paws...

"Where do you think you're going?" came a soft whisper in my ear from Relis. My body went numb and I had to stifle the urge to cry.

"Aw c'mon Relis, not tonight," came Warris unexpectedly to my defence.

"Frankly, it's none of your business," retorted Relis. She swapped over her paws and spun me around to look at her, catching me with the acidic stare of those pale, soulless eyes.

"In the morning is one thing, but now? No, you're going too far," Warris suddenly blurted out. "In fact, you've already gone way beyond too far."

Looking back now, Master Warris was always a nervous man. He hardly ever spoke out about anything, the day Zanders almost had me killed for example, and he always seemed nervous around the other handlers, a loner almost. But squaring up to Relis, I saw a different side of him, the animalistic side of his nature, fierce and undaunted even by a foe that was clearly more than a match for him.

Relis removed her hands from my shoulders and squared up to Warris, her maw just centimetres from his.

"Well what're you gonna do about him, hmmm?" she growled, her whiskers twitching. "When did you suddenly become a weak-link lover?"

"You're abusing a child and you don't even realise it, do you?" he responded.

"I am doing what I want with my property. And who are you to preach to me on taking care of a child, huh Warris?" I could see Warris shifting slightly, skirting around Relis, away from me. He looked like he was beginning to waver, break under her intense stare. I was frozen to the spot, too afraid to move. Relis continued to lean in.

"Is that all you got, huh? You out of sermons now, preacher boy?"

"Just one. I don't stand for Boaren half-breeds taking advantage of defenceless cubs." With that Relis lost it and took a swipe right at Warris' face. In one seamless, fluid motion he ducked the blow and rolled under her arm. But rather than strike back, he used his momentum to continue through the door and, before Relis could recover and follow, slammed the door shut and slid the deadbolt in place. Relis, her face a painting of fury, rasped on the glass with clenched fists.

"Open this gods damn door, you hear me!"

"Sorry, my house, my rules," Warris replied.

"Wait 'til Zanders hears about this!"

"Sorry. He's entertaining nobility right now. Might be a better use of your time to just go finish yourself off in whatever corner you skulk off to." Relis growled and smashed both fists against the glass in unison.

"This isn't over Warris. You hear me? This isn't fucking over!" With that she disappeared into the night. I was stunned. No one had ever stood up for me before, let alone one of my captors. Warris kneeled before me.

"She's gone." Then he looked over my shoulder at all the other stunned children who had not yet been put away in their rooms. "What're you all looking at? Backs to your door, now!" A loud shuffling rang throughout the long corridor as the other children did as they were told. But I... I don't know what came over me. I don't know where I learnt that response, having been shown no affection by anyone that didn't end in something horrid. But somehow... I just knew what to do. I leaned forwards and hugged Warris. I wrapped my little arms around his chest and began to sob whilst he was reared up on his knees, observing the other children. It startled him for a moment.

"Hey... hey," he said softly, putting a hand on my back.

"Why? Why did you do that for me?" I sniffled.

"Because, despite what anyone says, you're still a person. You always remember that, okay?" He lifted my chin up with his forefinger. Slowly, I nodded my head. "Good. And you'll never have to worry about her again... I make sure of it. Now, off to bed with all of you." It ended as quickly as it started, and then it was just back to business as usual. Eat, sleep and prepare for a new day. But somehow, I knew things would be different from now on.

Yes, that evil, conniving bitch Relis was the closest thing I ever had to a mother... But I can happily say that Master Warris was the closest thing I ever had to a father...