The pens had been busy it seemed. The slaves had been bred during the busy season so that the officials could afford the lack of usable hands come the slower months. And so, here began the fruits to those demented labors as women of all size and race lay bunked up about the room, each one waiting patiently for their hour to arrive, they're child to be born, then watch them carried off to be lost in the sea of broken faces. Ten children had been born thus far and yet another three were expected before the dawn. A dawn none ever saw and a bitter few could even claim not once to have seen that glorious sun so many prayed to return to.

A dark figure loomed above the expectant mothers, surveying the scene and greeting every new life with a critical eye. As the newest child was wrapped and presented, the man stood silent a moment before grabbing the tiny infant by the leg and hoisting her above his head, not seeming to notice or care about the infants lack of noise.

It was a sad sight. Perhaps weighing a pound, the child's pale newborn complexion was made even more sickly by the mat of mottled blue hair that had begun to grow from her crown. Four fragile thin things that constituted wings, lay plastered to the infants back, having yet to dry.

"What form of insect is this?" he asked abruptly, half tossing the palm sized child back to the hand maid slave.

"She's the newest birth Lord," the woman replied timidly.

"Is it even alive?" he inquired choosing now of all times to notice the child's lack of motion and shallow breath.

"Of course Lord," the woman nodded hastilly.

"Well, discard it. We'll not waste food on such worthless product. Toss it in the pit where it belongs," he ordered the woman before stepping beyond her as a new labor commenced.

A sprite child had bad odds to begin with, but this one even more so, the woman thought, wrapping the child back up in her dirty rag and laying her over her shoulder like a rag herself.

In time the woman would be able to pass this child to another, who on her wanderings to fulfill laundry duties had a good chance of slipping the little thing from the pits. In time, she would hopefully survive her trip to an actual home. In time she may actually become an adult.

In time...

"Bite me!" an oversized grey sweater capped with a blue flair of messy hair hollard at some unknown person in the milling crowd. The half pint person fighting to give the finger from within the massively long sleeves was only visiable due to having been hoisted over the shoulder of a respected group member.

She faught back with all the furry of a trapped ferret, until finally she gave up and resigned herself to growling at the person who had angered her who was still flashing gestures in her direction.