Many lifetimes ago I sat with many of my ilk in the sweltering confines of a lurching cart listening to the clattering of our chains as we were sent into the unknown. We were to be the first slaves in the uncharted lands beyond the bog. We were going to build the empire up from nothing in this strange land in anticipation of colonists. After the road was built that is. After we had already crossed to the unknown lands. We were oblivious to our privilege. Knowing only that we were going a lot farther than usual. Our only means of distraction was an old man at the back of the cart who sang an old tune from a motherland long since destroyed. I was dozing in my seat, my rump and legs having lost feeling hours before. The people to my left and right pressed so close as to prop me up. A child, chained to the floor with many others was scraping something into the worn wood.

        I was jolted awake by a gruff shout from behind the cart. The old man grew quiet and everything went still as the cart slowed to a still. We could feel as one of the guards jumped from the drivers seat at the front of the cart and heard his boots slog around to the back. A young man sitting directly across from the old singer stood as much as he could to peer out of one of the two tiny barred windows. "The cart behind us is stuck!" He whispered loudly to the rest of us. He continued to watch as the commotion outside grew louder. This was not a completely odd occurrence, we were traveling though Aurora, a giant bog that seemed to span the whole East of the world. We sat quietly waiting for them to unstick the cart when another shout rang out. The young lookout became panicked, "The cart is sinking!" he exclaims as more people begin to shout. The sound of slogging boots and commotion stirs the people around me into frightened whispers. A woman begins praying to the gods as others ask the young man what else is happening.

        Just as the noise becomes too much the slaves of the cart behind us start to scream. I make out a man telling others to "Step away! A sinkhole! Get out!" I am paralyzed in my spot as some of my people begin to cry. More prayers are said as the screams become more shrill. The young man at the window becomes like a wild animal, yanking at his chains and slamming on the door. Half of his family had been separated and put on the cart behind us and he watched helplessly as they sank to a slow and horrible death. The noises grew and grew and I buried my head between my legs trying to drown it out. It seemed like hours before the screams began to fade. The sobs within the cart becoming new wails of anguish as people realized the other slaves were gone. Swallowed by the merciless bogs of Aurora. Too well chained in to be saved in time before they were taken by the mud. Not that they mattered enough for the people of the empire to risk their lives trying to save them.

        In the absence of the second cart, the people outside slogged back to ours and climbed aboard. Our bodies crushing together as the cart lurched forward again. The young man was despondent, hanging limp halfway off his seat held up only by his chains. The old man stared at the him with dead eyes and began his tune again. A little louder as to be heard over the sobs and worthless prayers.