“Hey ... Is that really an Athralis?”

“So it seems. I had never seen one before…”

“I thought they were finally extinct ...”

“Look how weird it is … It's like a mutant between a human and a cat.”

“That's gross.”

“Did you see the color of its eyes? They’re red!”

“That’s creepy!”

Even though the humans around him were making an effort to whisper in a very low voice, Rigel had no problem hearing them. Not only because they were relatively close inside the wooden cage in which they were all being transported to be sold as slaves to different buyers, but also because his hearing could reach a considerably wide range, no matter how low they tried to whisper.

The comments didn’t have any effect on him, though. He had already heard them so many times during his 15 years of life, and he was too injured, tired and hungry to worry about those things.

When they had captured him, the traffickers had made a very deep wound on his right thigh, which they had bandaged without much care, and the pain was stabbing him at constant intervals. The rustic metal handcuffs on his wrists were too heavy for his battered and exhausted arms, and it was with difficulty that he still remained conscious, trying not to be stunned by the strong smell of blood and despair all around him. In fact, he had been surprised at first that the humans who huddled in the opposite corner of the cage had enough energy to be conversing, but Rigel then remembered that most of them were in a much better condition than him, despite having the same status of "living merchandise". The difference was that they were all human, so none of them had been treated as badly as he had been.

Suddenly, the prison carriage they were traveling in was shaken in an abrupt movement caused by the jump of a wheel, probably by some rock or irregularity in the dirt road, and Rigel hit his forehead against the wooden bar on which he was leaning, trying to get some rest. He heard some other complaining coming from the humans that accompanied him, and only then their whispers finally ceased.

Thanks to that Rigel finally noticed the unmistakable weeping of a human child. With difficulty, Rigel opened his eyes to find who was making the hushed sounds in the middle of the handful of humans and quickly spotted a little girl, probably not older than ten years, with beautiful but dirty blond hair that covered her face. She was dressed much better than the rest, her body trembled with her sobs and she seemed the only one really scared by her situation, unlike the others who behaved disturbingly calm. As tragic as it seemed, it was as if they had long ago resigned themselves to this being their destiny, maybe because they had already lived too many years in those situations.

Rigel also felt that way, but for a different reason. If there was a way in which he could call this destiny of his, the most appropriate should be retribution… justice.

A painful throb on his leg seemed to confirm his thoughts and Rigel held back another groan. He had grown weary of looking at the woods through which they were traveling quite a while ago, and by now the wounds had almost totally weakened him. The carriage had moved ahead for a couple of hours already and although the pain hadn’t let Rigel rest before, now his consciousness was finally growing numb. Before Rigel could close his eyes with the intention of resting as much as possible, a curious but very soft sound from above the roof of the cage caught his attention, and he also noticed a sudden change in the air. The feline featured ears on his head stirred slightly to try and better capture the sound, and suddenly, an unusual smell of something he couldn’t recognize brushed his nose. It was a fresh, unique perfume but he couldn’t tell what it was or where it was coming from, he had never felt a scent like that before.

Meanwhile, the coachman driving the prison carriage knew they still had a long and monotonous road to travel before reaching the town where they would exchange the merchandise. It was probably going to take them the whole morning and his partners, who walked one at each side of the carriage, seemed too tired from the hunt to be up for some conversation, so he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the boredom that this trip would entail.

But before he could yawn, the sudden sensation of the cold and sharp edge of a blade stuck to the skin of his neck stopped him abruptly.

“Good evening, gentleman.” A husky and cordial voice politely greeted him from behind. "Would you be so kind as to stop the carriage for a moment?"