Mydra stood in line with the rest of the slaves, awkwardly holding the wooden box containing the symbols of her class and enslavement. This fitting process was taking much longer than anyone expected, especially when the quote-unquote blacksmith found himself distracted by a well-endowed Fourth Collared slave and accidentally lit Drenovan's boot on fire. The scene was quite comical, but everyone was too scared of the consequences for laughing to do so. The two were engaged in a vicious exchange of racial slurs bordering on a fistfight. At least they were until Phera arrived on the scene to quickly placate the outraged male egos with her female assets, suggesting that the blacksmith go and rest while another took his place. It was obvious that the slaves were getting antsy by the two hour mark, Mydra included, and they could only hope that this man would be more efficient and less clumsy. It wasn't that all of them were anxious to start their first "training sessions", but one can only stand in an immobile line for so long.

When it was finally her turn, she couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she glanced down at the box she was holding. To make things even worse, the mysterious manly slave slipped in line behind her, flashing a bright smile in her direction. Whether it was the fact that he was standing right behind her, that flames heated to hundreds of degrees were going to weld iron cuffs around her limbs or a combination of the two, Mydra was incredibly nervous. She stepped forward nevertheless, holding out her wrists as they were demanded and, thankfully, not even feeling it when a burly man skillfully melted and blended the iron into seamless rings.

All was going well until he readied up for the last cuff, the one around her right ankle. While the Fourth Collars were being taken off to their first training session, one of them tripped over the other, knocking both of them down with a high-pitched scream from whichever hit the ground first. It was enough to break the man's concentration and molten iron trickled down Mydra's ankle as she bit her lip with a quiet intake of breath. The metal left blistering fire in every pore it touched, marking a silvery trail down to the ground. Drenovan glanced over from the pleasant company of his sister rushed over immediately to backhand the blacksmith flavored man.

"Clumsy backwater bastard! You great lumbering oaf! You can't even withstand a slight distraction. How did a man like you make it through all of the training? Does all of the effort and work we put into you slaves go to waste, you useless swine?!" Another slap sounded through the room as Mydra stumbled, the pain in her ankle almost more than she could bear as she felt the metal starting to cool and harden into the tiny faults of her skin. Warm flesh met hers and the solid form of the attractive male slave kept her from hitting the floor quite ungracefully. This body-to-body contact set a whole different part of her aflame.

"Are you alright?" Drenovan's shouting and abuse fell out of her world while her body weight rested against this man's firm shape. He made no move to change that. Neither did she.

"Yeah, I've had worse," Mydra replied in a low tone; the collar around her neck suddenly seemed tighter, chafing against the old burn on the back of her neck from a similar experience. She could feel his chest rumble with a suppressed chuckle as he watched Drenovan drag the man off more disciplinary action, despite the fact that his cheeks were already dripping blood from the jagged rings on Drenovan's fingers.

"Really? I think I'd have fainted by now." Mydra rolled her eyes, knowing that he couldn't see her face. It was obvious that he was humoring her with those lash marks scarring his back. Phera said something in the background and flashed something between a glare and a grin of approval when she saw the situation between Mydra and this mysterious slave before she moved to follow her brother. Mydra and the other slaves were left without any supervision. "I can't stand burns at all." As much as she liked the physical contact, Phera's glance made her self-conscious even with her superiors out of sight.

"I think I can stand by myself now," Mydra said, beating down her howling lust as she tried to push off the beautiful specimen that served as her support. He let her go, taking a step back so that she could be on her own feet freely. Much to her embarrassment, as soon as he was out of reach her knees buckled and she would have crumpled to the ground if her glistening fellow slave hadn't intervened.

"Maybe you shouldn't think for a while, the pain is going to your head," he teased gently, scanning the area for Drenovan and Phera before lifting her up in his arms and carrying her like a wounded kitten. A small minority in Mydra's head protested, but it was far from enough to gain control of her mouth and vocalize that discomfort, so she relaxed and enjoyed the ride. He set her down carefully on a bench against the wall, pushing her lightly so that she leaned with her bare back grazing the wall. How familiar. The man smiled and plopped down next to her, locking his fingers together and placing his heads behind his casually, letting out a deep breath. "So what's a pretty thing like you doing in chains anyway?"

"Are you serious?" One of Mydra's eyebrows shot way up and got lost in her forehead.

"No, that was just a stupid question. I suppose you're in chains only because you're pretty," his mouth opened slightly in a grin as he tongued the tip of one of his canines, giving her a predatory look-over from head to toe. She felt utterly exposed, and she felt the blush heat her skin. Mydra stared at the trails of silver that were ingrained in the skin of her ankle; the patterns the iron paved were like webs of silver extending from a thick river.

"It's almost beautiful for something so painful." The skin around all the iron was an angry, irritated red, burned and swollen from the heat of the metal. She reached out with slender fingers to caress the thickest spot of smooth iron since it was already cooled and ready to be taken off, if that was possible. As her fingers continued to explore the abused skin that was all around her ankle, a larger hand shot out of nowhere and smacked hers away from the tender skin.

"You really shouldn't be touching that, kitten." The casual endearment he left lingering at the end of his sentence sent a tingle down her spine. Mydra amazed herself when she found the words to answer him, his last sentence replaying in her head to make sure that she heard him right.

"It doesn't hurt that much." She shrugged off his concern and made a reach for the swollen flesh again, just to spite him, but was yet again thwarted.

"So? You still shouldn't be playing around with burnt skin. It's going to puss and blister and peel, so if you touch it now while it is still exposed to the open air, it might get infected and then you'll be sorry that you didn't listen to me.”

What does it matter to you? It isn't your ankle anyway, so it's not your responsibility, was what she thought, but all she did was smile slightly and take her hand away from her foot, leaning back against the wall once more. She scanned the large room for any signs of Drenovan or Phera's return, but they were nowhere to be seen.

"That's better. If it got too badly infected, it could ruin your ankle and you wouldn't be able to walk on it naturally. I'm sure your class has little place for the deformed." Mydra blinked and considered what would happen if it did get infected as this man said. She would probably be sold again for little profit because no one wants a deformed slave. Her new Master or Mistress would have her working in the kitchens or dangerous tasks that they didn't want to waste a physically fit slave on. It was a future no one wanted to have. She gulped a little and linked her fingers together to prevent reaching down towards her ankle.

"Why does my fate have to do with you? I don't even know your name," Mydra bit her lip gently and looked up at him, almost reluctant to ask the questions that were clamoring for freedom within her mind. This man confused her. He was taking care of her like he knew her, showing concern over her health, but at the same time, he seemed lewd and concerned with much more than her well-being. Then again, the latter could just be her imagination seeing what it wanted.

"Caine," he grinned again. Mydra repeated his name in her head, feeling it. She watched him, eyes playing over all of his outward features as she tried to fit the name to the man. Of course, it was more like an excuse just to look at him. The name seemed to fit well enough and his personality fit easily into the singular syllable. The Morucians always chose the names for their children very carefully, and tended to make strong first impressions based on name and appearance. "Mydra" basically meant "luscious fruit for tasting", and it seemed that her body had obeyed the name as she grew into adulthood. She didn't know what "Caine" meant, but she would always associate it with his tasty form.

Drenovan made his entrance back into the quiet room with a shouted reprimand.

"Did I tell you sorry bitches that you could sit down?" The two other slaves that were waiting in line had sat down on the stone floor at some point in time but with the shouting, they jumped up, looking like frightened squirrels cornered by a snarling pitbull. Mydra and Caine were less quick in standing because he stood first and helped her to her feet, making sure that she could almost stand on her own with just a little weight on her injured side. Drenovan scowled at the two quivering slaves. "What classes are you two?"

"Triple Collared, sir," one of them answered with much reluctance.

"I see, and you?" He stared at the other until Mydra swore that he was going to faint.

"Double Collared, sir."

"Alright then, you two girls will have to go the day without your irons. Our only two blacksmiths are a little tied up at the moment. Go out that door and someone will take you where you need to be." As soon as he pointed, the pair of timid girls almost broke into a sprint towards the door. "Don’t let me hear about you two getting into any trouble because you aren't properly collared because I'm trusting you and I don't like my trust being taken advantage of!" he called out after them before turning on Mydra and Caine.

"I'm a Triple Collared too, sir. Should I go out with them?" Caine asked plainly, glancing towards the door before he realized what he had done.

"Did I tell you to speak?" Drenovan's eyes widened in shock. Mydra was probably just as shocked as Drenovan was. Speaking without being spoken to was one of the greatest offences a slave could commit. She just didn't understand how Caine ever survived as a slave before this. His basic skills and common sense seemed rusted over, and that attitude... Mydra didn't know if he always acted like that, but if he tried that on anyone of status, he would find himself in a place of pain. Drenovan smacked Caine across his face with the back of his hand, knocking him to the ground. A loud thunk sounded through the almost empty room when his head came in contact with the stone bench that the pair of them had been sitting on earlier. Mydra dared a glance down at Caine and saw a trickle of blood drip from the side of his mouth as well as one on the side of his head.

"I'm sorry, sir. It will never happen again." Drenovan moved his foot like he was going to kick him once more, but put it down when he decided, for whatever reason, not to. He snarled silently over his victim before managing to say anything else.

"I am going to let you off easy this time, just this once because you are new here and don't seem to grasp the consequences of your actions. You better get out of my sight if you want to live through your first day here." Caine obliged and moved quickly out into the hallway through the door that Drenovan pointed out earlier. This left Mydra all alone with the intimidating, violent man. "Can you walk?"

"I haven't really tried, sir." She put more weight down on her foot experimentally.

"Then try now." Mydra walked a few wobbly steps before finding a gait that avoided the most pain while still covered enough ground to maintain a reasonable walking speed. "Alright then. I'll have to take you to the infirmary then. Broken bones, split lips, and bruises are one thing, but burns are one thing have to be treated immediately. Master's command." Drenovan sighed in resignation. He obviously didn't think that slave property wasn't worth keeping in working condition. "Well. Don't just stand there looking at me, we have to go. Follow me and don't lag behind too much or there will be severe consequences."

Now it was Mydra that sighed quietly as she hobbled after him, trying to match the fast pace he was setting.