Fateless Anointed

Following the other slaves' leads, he started taking down tents and cramming various things into bags. Of course this would only be the beginning of his servitude, but he already felt overworked. Especially dealing with other people cooperatively....

The bags were loaded and the only trace left of a camp was a dead fire. And the heavy backpack he wore. His body was the same slightly fit one he always had, but it seems like the malnutrition the slaves had also was with him. The backpack would still have been heavy either way, but his near-sickly state made it far worse.

Not many words were spoken between the hunters, much less the slaves. A stench of grass flowed through Valen just like his sweat through his clothes. The softly rolling hills once seemed majestic but now each was a miniature Trial. The mountain was both a reprieve and a threat; the sign of the journey ending but a horrid climb.

Conflicts were to be resolved in Trials, but what conflict was there? Did he have to escape the slavers? Maybe he'd help them kill a Fiend? Or maybe because the Ambition of an Animal, the one he chose, is only the ambition to survive with cowardice, he only has to survive.

A few days passed. Walk. Camp. Wake up. Pack. Walk. A cycle that wasn't fun for the weak-willed Valen. The mountain was quite a bit closer now, though.

Suddenly a hunter's hand rose quickly, giving a silent signal to stop. Valen, with his suppressed but not defeated arrogance, took a few more steps forward to gaze over the hill to see if anything actually dangerous was there. The quick jab from a hunter quickly knocked him down, causing both to make noise. The hunter, through his own arrogance and inability to bear a slave's disobedience, lapsed in judgement and made a fatal mistake.

A stillness, beyond what was displayed after the stop signal, spread through the group like a plague. Only eyes moved and they all switched between the hunter and Valen. Intense anger could be felt from each gaze. The silence between them seemed to be ravaged by the quiet footsteps trailing through the grass. The eyes of the hunters landed on the slaves.

"Drop the bags. Now!" The slaves obliged with a speed near as frightening as the footsteps. Hunters picked up the bags and beared their weight without struggle.

"Stay here or we'll kill you ourselves!" The hunters, without need for coordination, ran away. They were cowards, but in their mind they were noble. The meager sacrificing of slaves for their masters was nothing new or distasteful.

The slaves knew that the hunters couldn't prevent them from running in a different direction, but what was there to do now? The footsteps hit the crest of the hill, a few feet away from the slaves.

Valen was the most far away from the... thing, after he was knocked down by the aggravated hunter. When he saw what the hunters fled from, he almost laughed. Fear dissipated from his face, but the other slaves paled. It was a noodly looking dog. Its torso was the same diameter as its legs.

The slaves in front of Valen kneeled and begged for their lives. Valen, with his repeated ways of having his ego broken, followed suit. He didn't understand, but he didn't need to. Everyone's reactions to the silly dog gave him everything he needed to know.

The dog looked at the begging slaves and seemed to laugh.

"Ha! Be my slaves!"

The slaves were happy to hear this. They were already slaves, what could be worse? This dog wouldn't be cruel to them just for fun. Probably.

"Which way did they go?" the dog spoke. Only now did Valen realize it was doing that. He knew dogs didn't speak... but he also knew that anything related to the Inscription or the Other Side didn't agree with Earth on things. Naturally, he obeyed the dog and pointed in the direction where the hunters ran.

"Follow me, subjects!"

The 4-foot-long dog began a nice trot, of course it being a jog for the slaves. The dog was satisfied with its newfound servants and prey, thus the vitality. Its strange body seemed quite strong despite the unfamiliar structure. It would win in any form of contest of strength even if all the slaves worked together.

The slaves were running out of breath quick. The dog, seeing this, had some of his joy leave him. It kept going however.

"Rejoice, my subjects! You're oppressors will soon reap what they have sowed!" The hunters were in sight.