It began in September, with a strange dream, a sharp feeling of pain, and waking the next morning with a "k" imprinted into her flesh...how it ends, has yet to be seen.
Barbarian they called her, though she did not understand the term in their language yet. A plain steel collars rested around her throat, and she was initially given only rags to wear, the garment covering less than the sundress she'd worn when taken from her home. She was allowed no name, and her true name was not asked. No Name Slavegirl is what instead he called her, when he was not calling her pet, his hand in fact patting her lightly upon the head, as though she were only an animal. She was deemed property of the city of Helmutsport, under the hand of Coyle Dread, and she understood this at least. She learned Gorean and the ways of service, foods, drinks, and pleasing the men she must call Master. She went through the motions of obedience, though in her heart, she yearned to be returned home, to escape these barbarians.
As the feeling began to subside, so did it also return in full force, only a short time later. Set free from the kennels with the other slaves of Helmutsport, she had to find a new place, a new existence, a new way to understand.
Having wandered out from the now deserted city, she went back to the arena, seeking the guard who'd brought her to the slaver. Shift after shift she waited, but he did not surface, and she decided to take matters into her own hands, rather than letting herself succumb to a fit of self pity. Lifting a fragile voice for the masses to hear, she offered service, the answer called by a pair of free persons. One of them was a warrior, and he rescued her from the wandering state. She now lives with a new circle of steel, this one marked, "Property of Dar Patton."
I am la kajira.
I am beautiful.
I am property.
-=I woke, my face pressed to the grass by the weight of my own dazed condition. The air was hot, but so clean. I inhaled. I have never breathed air so clean, and when I came to my feet finally, I felt the strangeness of change. Looking upward, my eyes found three spheres in the sky, faint tracings of three moons. Incited to fear, I cried, then ran, as I could. The man I could see across the field, his form propped by a tree, his head bloodied. Steps heard, I "escaped" from the assailant. Thinking of it as an escape, was the foolish reflection of my ignorance. I know better now, much to my mortification.=-
After sleep she is languor.
The house exudes her fragrance.
She adorns it
when she appears in the morning.
With buttocks like a soft dune
over which a rainshower falls
matting the sand
as it sprinkles down,
over the lower curve of her back,
soft as the moringa's gossamer flowers,
curled with pins and combed,
With long cheek hollows
where tears flow,
and a lengthened curve at the breast sash
where it crosses and falls.