Legends of Belariath
Miku
Born to a brothel slave girl early one winter evening, Miku, as she was named, found herself born into servitude. Their master disliked children and hadn’t before allowed a pregnancy within the stucco walls of his desert manor; preferring to have them terminated at the first sign. In his words “who will pay to fuck a pregnant girl?” Although it was never her decision to make, Miku’s mother desperately wished to keep her child and did everything she could to sway his decision in her favor. Her master eventually relented, telling her it was only because she was one of his more favored slaves that he allowed her to carry the pregnancy to term, though to not make him regret it. In the back of his mind however, he was curious to see if the coin that could be made from this child would outweigh the cost of feeding it.
Her early years were relatively peaceful. She was tended to by her mother and when her mother worked she was tended to by an older cat woman. The cat child fondly referred to the older woman as her Nahnah. Being that Nahnah’s beauty had faded long ago, she no longer worked in the brothel, thus the cat child and she spent a good deal of time together in those relatively peaceful early years. When the slave child was old enough to hold a wash rag and do various other chores, she was promptly put to work. She was a bright child, quick to learn. She did many of her chores with her Nahnah. Their jobs mostly centered on the cleaning of the rooms, laundry and occasionally miku would help with meals. She spent the entirety of her early days with in the walls of her master’s property. She had little to no idea that there was anything else in life other than the world she saw. Her mother had told her stories of lands and villages elsewhere, though Miku hadn’t even a clue what a village was. She had no schooling other than what her mother and her Nahnah taught her; their master believing an educated slave was a worthless slave, and a slave who could read, a threat.
One morning she was permitted to accompany her mother to the market. It was that day she left the stucco manor, saw the truly vast expanse of the surrounding desert, and grasped the idea of free people for the first time. She suddenly realized that there were those who weren’t masters, yet wore no collars. Free persons who came and went as they pleased, answering to no one but themselves. The box had been opened and there was no unlearning this knowledge. Full of questions, a curiosity burned within her. She made an effort to always accompany her mother to town whenever she could; the kitten wanted very badly to learn about the world and this other way of life. It wasn’t until a few months later did Miku finally broach the subject with her mother “why come we can’t be like the free people mama? Go and do what we like when we want” Her mother’s jaw dropped and she quickly belted Miku in the mouth, hissing “don’t speak so foolishly child! Such talk will only cause us troubles” Her mother was, of course, right for more reasons other than the disrespect it showed for their master. Though she was well aware of how much their master disliked children, until then, Miku had no idea how close she had come to being terminated prenatal. She learned quickly not to speak of such things, however she did not keep them from her thoughts. She continued to go with her mother on visits to the market, and began to grow desirous of the freedom so many seemed to have. She slowly grew discontent and coupled with preteen angst resulted in a troublesome child. Her work slackened and often she would run off to play outside, chasing grasshoppers across the windswept lands, skipping chores. She was, of course, punished but despite her mothers warnings remained defiant.
Having seen her grow from a babe, most of the manor adored the house’s only child. The slave girls saw her as one of their own, the mothering instincts of childless women in full force. As things stood, it seemed no one had the heart to give the little catling the harsh beating that probably would have put her in place and kept her a useful asset to the manor. Though the little kitten rarely if ever interacted with their master, he became aware of the child’s discontent and his already thin patience started to ware. He decided, on a rather cruel whim, that he no longer wished to feed the cat child or wait the time until she too could work in the brothel. Despite the begging of her mother, he put Miku up for sale and sold her to the first person that made a reasonable offer. A wolven man, the alpha of a wandering band, purchased the small cat child as his pack was in need of another slave to tend to their horses and numerous other chores around camp. He had gotten the mottled kitten for a good deal, and with one look at her pubescent body he could tell that in a few years her value would double. Before she fully realized what was happening, Miku had a new collar locked about her neck and was slung on the back of a horse. It was only when she saw her mother run from the house, wailing pitifully, did Miku realize she would never see her or the stucco manor again. Her new wolven master took her from the desert she had called home and brought her to the bordering prairie where his pack had set up camp.
Had Miku thought her existence miserable before, she was in for a horrible awakening. Bloodthirsty, heartless and cruel was this band of renegade wolven. Most had been banished from their respective packs. They had formed a makeshift pack of their own, wandering the expanses of the grassland, hunting and waylaying travelers who were unfortunate enough to cross their path. They took an immediate disliking to the new cat slave their alpha had brought back for them and it became their new entertainment to make her life a living hell. Humiliation, brutal beatings and molestation were a daily occurrence. It was not unusual for her to be beaten within inches of her life only to be healed so the torture could be repeated. The young cat girl had no choice but to adapt. She learned tears only meant pain, and disobedience, even more. The kitten had no solace. She rose early, awoken by the rising sun, and toiled well into the night. The unfortunate little cat child lived in fear, always looking over her shoulder, knowing that at any moment she could and would be used in any sadistic way the pack saw fit. She wasn’t allowed the cover of a tent unless the most severe weather conditions permitted, and even then the miserable little catling would most often prefer to chance it with the weather than with one of the wolven. She assisted an older cat woman slave in preparing the meals and sustained herself on table scraps.
One day she was sent to a near by town to purchase provisions for the evenings meal. On her way back through the streets as she lugged a large bag of food, she was nearly knocked to the ground by a tiny faery that jetted around a corner. The small creature was in utter terror, and in the distance Miku could hear deep voices calling for it, searching. “Help meeeee!! Please pleeease help meeeeee!!” it pleaded to her, tears streaming down it’s face. Without much thought to consequences, Miku quickly took the fae and hid it in her bag of provisions. She then continued on her way back toward the wolf camp. The fae’s pursuers, drunk and stupid, ran right past the toiling slave girl as she stumbled back to camp with a large sack of food. Once they had gotten far enough away and Miku was sure they had not been followed, she opened the bag and peered in at the still trembling creature. “Its ok” she said softly “they are gone.” The tiny fae flew out of the bag, beaming happily. It kissed Miku on the nose and darted away, leaving the small slave girl wondering if any of it had ever really happened. She continued back to the wolf camp with the provisions.
A few years passed and Miku grew more miserable. Her body betrayed her, sensuous curves softening the angles of the catling’s once immature form. Though severely malnourished, the unmistakable contours of womanhood had graced her near skeletal frame. The taunts, insults, sneers, and continual beatings were now accompanied by leers, lecherous gazes and brutal rape. The unfortunate catling found herself fair game for anyone of the wolven who wished her.
Nightly she prayed to the gods to take her life, to end her suffering. One night after a particularly vicious beating, the bruised and battered catling found her way to a small pond, with the intention of drowning herself. She sat by the water's edge and wept bitterly. “If-if-if only....I-if only I-I could...if only I could g-get this-this damn collar off... then I-I could at least....at least... run away.” She sobbed. Suddenly she felt something holding onto her arm. She looked around quickly, fearful that it be one of the wolf men. To her utter surprise it was the tiny fae, she had helped years before, hugging her arm. “No cry..see? no more collar!” As the faery said this, the lock on Miku’s collar opened and she felt it fall from her neck. Miku’s yellow-green eyes opened wide in disbelief. The fae kissed her on the nose and flew away before Miku could even thank it. Still in relative shock, Miku took her collar, flung it into the pond, got up, and RAN. She ran all through the night and kept on running, putting as much distance as she could between her and the wolven camp. The band found her missing the next day. They tracked her to a near by town but lost the trail there. They didn’t investigate much further as there was hunting to be done and they had assumed that with their collar locked about her neck, someone in the surrounding area would eventually drag her back, kicking and screaming. By the time they realized she had somehow slipped her collar, her scent had gone stale and any chance of tracking her gone.
Miku had indeed ran to that town where, breathless and exhausted, she stowed away under a pile of hay in a local farmer’s wagon. The cart set off north. Once it arrived at it’s destination, Miku crept out of the wagon and kept on in the same direction. She meandered about for months, the kitten making up for all the time she was unable to go and do what she wanted and putting as much distance between her and her past that she could. Wanderlust they call it, and she had it. Often unable to find enough or afford food, she grew quite gaunt. It didn’t bother her much, she was just grateful to only answer to herself. She continued on her way, the wilderness showing on her rapidly weakening form. Emaciated and wrought with fatigue, wearing little more than rags, the small stray eventually stumbled across the lonely inn.