Chapter 1 - Prologue

Smoke rose from the small campfire, which was slowly being extinguished by the drizzling rain. Three rats and a stoat huddled around it, wrapped in their tattered cloaks. The smallest rat, Radjak, shivered and shook rain water from his whiskers.

“Some day this `as been,” he muttered, “Rain yesterday, rain today, and doncha know it, rain tomorrow.”

“Awww, shudup Radjak!” The stoat snarled. The stoat, Facdol, felt a sense of authority, being left in charge of the guards of Fort Spar and did not hesitate to boss the others around. Normally he and the others would be severely punished for simply hanging around. But not tonight.

Tonight was a slave gathering night. Lord Kreinak would soon return with an important job for them: branding slaves and breaking their spirits.

Suddenly the doors of Fort Spar swung open. The slave catchers had returned, and Lord Kreinak was leading them. He was unusually large for a fox, thick limbed and sinewy. His fur was pitch black from head to tail; the slaves said that his fur was as black as his heart. He had sharp yellow eyes and a deep commanding voice.

“Facdol!” he yelled, “Take these slaves to the firing room!”

“Yes ma' Lord!” Facdol and two rats led the slaves to a small hut to the right of the main fortress. The room was dark, only lit by a small fire in a large crevice in the wall. “Listen you scum!” Facdol screamed, “Your property of Lord Kreinak now.” He grinned wickedly “And I'm gonna make sure you never forget it!” He grabbed the slave closest to him, a pretty young hare maid.

“Well well, what have we here? What might your name be pretty miss?”

“None of your business stoat” she said defiantly.

“Oh, so we got us a cocky one here, eh? We'll soon fix that!” he slipped on a pair of thick leather gloves and took what appeared to be a small marble from the fire. He grabbed the hare's hand and forced the glowing object into her palm. She gasped as pain shot through her hand. She tried to let go, but he wrapped his hand around hers, forcing her to make a fist. Finally he took the stone from her hand. She dropped to the floor, her teeth clenched in pain, staring in horror at her badly burned hand. Facdol continued around the room, branding the slaves hands.

Suddenly the hare maid realized that he had only branded some of the slaves. The youngest and oldest creatures were still unbranded. “Radjak, you know what to do with the ones unfit to work.” Said Facdol.

“You bet I do,” said the rat, smiling wickedly at the remaining slaves as he led them outside.

The hare never saw the old ones or babes again.

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