DEREK
Lucy was dead. I knew she was dead, but something inside me refused to believe that the woman I loved was gone until I saw it for myself. Perhaps my masters made a mistake, perhaps they buried her alive. If I went to the grave and dug her out, perhaps I could still rescue her. I knew it was almost impossible, but I had to try.
Lucy was a cute little mouse-kin. She was shy and timid, always doing her work quietly. I was told we made a funny couple, what with me being such a large and intimidating-looking wolf-kin, but I figured that just meant that we complimented each other well.
Life on the farm used to be tolerable. The master worked us hard and our living conditions were poor, although not because he couldn't afford to give us more. The master was prosperous thanks to his family making several varieties of luxury cheeses, which were highly sought after by the wealthy.
Instead, he and his sons took pleasure in abusing us, but they used to take care not to go too far. They'd find some excuse for punishing us, and they'd be careful not to be too harsh. It has happened in the past that slaves who were made to suffer too much and too unreasonably would lose all rationality and attack their masters. However, once he acquired the collars he lost that fear, and the abuse got far worse.
The mistress was quite upset at Lucy's death, saying that Lucy was too good a worker, and that if the masters and his sons were going to break a toy, they should have chosen to break one that was less valuable. She might not have participated in it, but if Lucy really was dead, she will pay the price as well.
I waited until everyone on the farm was sleeping, then took out the knife that I stole a few week ago out of its hiding place in the back of the stockade. I crept to the door, the padding on my feet allowing me to move silently on the dirt floor, then slipped the thin blade into the crack that separated the planks of wood from each other and pushed up. The short handle didn't provide me with good leverage, but I more than made up for it with strength that surpassed that of human men. A few moments later the wooden bar that kept the stockade locked was lifted off of the hooks on one side, allowing me to quietly push the doors open without it falling to the ground.
I took a shovel from the tool shed, then followed the smell of Lucy's blood to find the place where they killed her. All I found there was a stain in the dirt. From there I followed the scent and the tracks to a mound of freshly dug dirt and started digging carefully, afraid of hurting her. After a few minutes I found the top of her head, her cute little mouse ears sticking up above the straight, smooth, cream-colored hair.
I set the shovel aside and dug with my hands. Her skin was cold, and her eyes were open and glazed over, but I couldn't give up. I tried breathing air a few times into her stiff lips, but there was no reaction. I kept digging, trying to release more of her body, when the head rolled sideways. Her neck ended in a jagged edge, and I realized that they sawed off Lucy's head to rescue the collar. They didn't mind torturing a good slave to death for no more reason than sport, but they didn't want to lose the precious devices that let them do it while keeping us under control.
I clenched my fists and my whole body shook with rage, and a low growl built up in my throat. I tolerated every beating that the masters delivered to myself, my family, and my friends, thinking that it was the only way to keep us all safe. Now my patience has cost the life of the woman I loved, the mother of my children. I will not allow them to get away with it. I will not sit back and watch while they continue to torture and murder us one by one for their amusement. I will put an end to it, right now.
I reburied Lucy's head, then returned to the tool shed, where I selected a hammer. I tested the hammer head, making sure that it was well attached to the shaft. I didn't want it to come loose when I was in the middle of my work. Then I wrapped a rag around it. I needed to kill the master and his sons without allowing any of them to wake up. If they did wake up, even for a moment, they could use the collar against me. A swift, powerful blow to the head would kill them while they slept, and the padding would reduce the noise.
I used the knife to trim my toenails, to prevent them from clicking against the wood of the floor inside the house, then snuck inside and up the stairs. I could hear all six of them breathing evenly, 2 to a room, indicating that they were all sleeping, just as I had planned.
I crept into the boys' room first, closing the door behind me. There was a good chance that the wife would wake up when I killed her husband. If the collars were set to pass on ownership, chances were that the ones to inherit ownership would be the sons. If she raised the alarm then they would wake up, and would then be able to kill me with only a thought. It was better to kill them first.
I leaned over the bed that was closest to the door. The young man seemed so innocent in his sleep, as if he hadn't just participated in the murder an innocent woman a mere few hours ago. I took careful aim and struck him hard in the head with the hammer. The noise was loud in the stillness of the night and I held my breath, afraid that the whole family would wake up, but all that happened was that the other boy stirred in his bed and muttered in his sleep.
I waited until he settled down, then repeated the procedure. Now there were only 4 breathing humans left in the house. I waited to be sure that no one would wake up from the noise, then slowly and carefully made my way to the master's bedside. The fat man was sleeping on his back, snoring loudly with his mouth hanging wide open. More than anyone in this house, he was the one responsible for our increasing misery, and he, more than anyone else, was responsible for Lucy's death.
I tightened my grip on the hammer, raised it high above my head, and brought it down upon his face with all the force that I could muster, smashing into the bridge of his nose and causing his skull to cave in.
"What?" a sleepy woman's voice spoke into the silence that followed. The mistress had finally woken up. She looked around in confusion, but with bed between us it wasn't convenient for me to strike at her at that moment.
"Ahh!" she cried out when she noticed me standing over her dead husband with a blood-soaked hammer in my hand. She fell out of the bed with a thump, got up, and ran for the open door. I caught up to her with a few quick strides.
"James! Eric!-"
I struck the top of her head just as she started crying out to her sons. She crumpled to the floor. Now there were only the sounds of two breathing humans left in the house, but they were beginning to wake up.
"Mommy?" a little girl called out.