How long had she been here? She'd lost count. Her hatred of her captor had changed, somehow...if she'd been asked just days ago if she wanted to go back to New Dawn, she would have said yes in a heartbeat. But really... what was there? Her son, her grandchildren. Well, yes. But there was so much she could do that she wasn't needed for. So many healers in one pack. It seemed Panda was a healer, but she hadn't seen any others. She would have to ask her mistress if she would be allowed to resume practicing her medicine. She was an herbalist, a healer. She was also a slave. The thought didn't rankle as it had at first.
She laid in her room, the one Charm kept her in. The choke chain was still on, the leash still kept her in place. Instead of fighting it, she laid there complacently, contemplating the changes in her life. Charm was kind, Deuce never wanted for food or water. Charm didn't force pain on Deuce. Well, there had been a whipping, once. Deuce had tried to bite Charm when she had first arrived. Oh, there had been screaming matches, too. Once, Charm had even muzzled Deuce to prevent another screaming match. And yet, still... Deuce felt an odd sense of loyalty, even fondness, growing in her.
The grizzled matriarch closed her eyes. A smile quirked her lips up as she contemplated her son's reactions if they were to find out she was a slave, even a willing one. A willing slave. Her ears fell back as she pondered this idea. Wasn't the phrase 'willing slave' an oxymoron? She let the thought go, her body relaxing. As she often did, mostly when she was younger, the remnants of a song came to her. In her mind it was sung in a soft and rich male's voice, heavy with the accent of his homelands. Her voice came out softly, sweet and high, the notes sung clearly and cleanly.
"Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flow'rs are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide."
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