[Trigger Warning: Slavery, gore, violence, foul language}
"Get up you useless slaves!" A guard slammed a wooden ladle against a metal, steaming pot sitting atop a rolling table.
Strelitzia jolted upright from where she'd been huddled in the corner. Most of her first night as a slave had been spent shivering, rocking back and forth in an attempt for warmth while watching over her new little friend. She wasn't sure why but she felt an instinctual need to shield Little James from the horrors he'd already become accustomed to.
She reached over and gently patted the child's back. "Time to wake up. It looks like food maybe?" Her stomach growled, painfully empty.
Little James perked up immediately, wiping a string of spit from his mouth. "Oh boy! It's my favorite." He wiggled his bare toes. "They're giving us seasoned crickets again. I can smell it."
