Slavery
The Cry of Moss
Mother ascended to heaven.
She left me two things: an old yellow dog and a manual for cultivating immortality.
Oh, and one promise.
“Whenever someone beats you, shout your mother’s name three times, and I will come save you.”
I never shouted.
Father had seldom used his fists lately; he had heard that girls in our area had suddenly become valuable, and a wounded one would fetch a poor price.
