With a sigh, I encouraged the girls off the transports. I had the shock of my life when one girl pulled away from me and bowed her head. It took a moment to recognize her, Vesa.

Vesa held her right arm close to her body and slid away from me. I heard a mumbled comment from her mouth. It was repeated instructions not to touch Ciara, not to look at Ciara, and not to approach Ciara. My old nemesis appeared Like a broken shell of the brave girl she'd been.

“What did they do to you?" I asked sadly as I watched her.

Her friends stayed with her and refused to look at me. When I caught one girl's eyes the terror was undeniable. Whoever had done this had made sure these girls would never interact with me again.

“There are no owners here to hurt you," Rose said softly stepping forward.

“You can talk to us without fear. It will be okay..."

Rose tried to approach and they backed off the other side of the transport. Vesa stumbled off and let out a soft cry as she looked up. I got a good look at her face and saw the glazed look in her eyes and the sweat on her face. She was pale and trembling, but different from the rest.

“She's hurt," I told Rose simply.

“Something happened and she's been injured."

It took us only a short time to figure it out. Molly had to be the one to talk to her, though. Vesa's arm was broken and had been for days. The wall of the room she'd been in had been hit with a beam while she'd been standing near it.

The Keepers didn't notice the injury when they moved the girls. Things had been too frantic and confused. The free men didn't know enough about humans to recognize it, because she refused to speak to them. Vesa had just been holding her arm and suffering as they traveled.

The rest of the day was an awful mess. Taking Vesa to our Healers resulted in her having a full blown panic attack. They fixed her arm, but her reaction sent the other girls into a tizzy. Just as we got them calmed down, Reed and Hassar came and took their slave bands.

The removal of the horrid slave bands was a disaster. The bands had ensured protection in a dangerous and uncertain world. All the women displayed some level of terror when they were removed. They screamed, begged, and cried; several even tried to run from us. I was sorely tempted to ask Hassar for calming cream for the women, but I knew that would not be acceptable. All we could do was offer them support as we tried to reassure them.

I could see why their prior guardians on the transport had disappeared so quickly.

A few girls started to understand as the day wore on. Molly embraced her freedom and started to help us. A couple began to recognize that the Paterians surrounding them had no desire to control or hurt them. It was just a very slow process.

Ratru and his Brothers, as well as the other men left with us, were unfailingly polite and friendly. They encouraged healthy behavior and started to get some minimal response. It helped even more when one girl's prior owners attempted to approach her. They wanted her back. My campmates literally formed a wall between them and the object of their desire. Freed slaves were not at anyone's mercy in the camp.

Still every Little moment seemed to be a drama. The midday meal had been a trial in and of itself. Food was brought to where we were and everyone got a plate and a cup. The girls cried when we asked them to feed themselves. I realized many had refused food and drink on the way here.

They were terrified that we'd give them poisoned food or somehow make them sick. Some thought it was a test by the men who had bought them. Only their owners would know what they could eat. ALL of them were sure of that. A simple midday meal took forever.

A few times when things seemed quiet for a moment, I would touch the ring on my finger and think of my family. My men and my boys were here in the camp and safe. Despite the stress it was the best day I'd had in a long time.

When I saw several young beaded Paterian women arrive in the early evening, I was surprised. We had the girls sequestered in a secluded room with its own set of Lacquered pots. They'd be safe here and we could start to sort out what they wanted to do. Those of us that had dealt with them all day were just exhausted, but I hadn't been sure when reinforcements would arrive.

It had never struck me how dependent slaves were made to feel. The girls were uncomfortable doing anything for themselves. They were used to being absolutely controlled and cared for.

“We take the next shift," one of the beaded women announced as she strode in. She introduced herself as Yahn of the T'aran Mountains and gave us a fanged smile.