Stan had been hearing whispered clues of the whereabouts of his friend for the last hour and still hadn’t had any luck. He was getting frustrated because he knew most of them to be wrong, but the rest didn’t lead him anywhere. Most said that she would be dead already, but that was an impossibility because they usually did ‘slayings of traitors’ publicly. The others just said either that she had been banished from the pack (these tended to be her friends or ones who wished her not to be dead), or that she had been kept captive in the castle. Stan was on the brink of giving up. Not that he wanted to, but he was just so tired of running around talking to different beasts and trying to find information. He didn’t want to give up on her but the challenge was beginning to tax his brain. It broke his heart that the rumours might be true. He stumbled over to an empty space of grass at the edge of the camp and slumped down feeling the warmth of the sun fall on his muzzle. Just as he started to relax he heard many beasts running past him and exited gasps of “oh, there she is” and “oh my word she’s not dead!” Forcing his eyes open Stan looked in the direction that the exited beasts were travelling.

At the right hand side of the castle was the slave line. It was positioned by a sewer pipe of the royal quarters and a vile stench hung in the air. The area was always covered in darkness and ankle thick with mud. Evil lizards, which worked for Damien for the mass of food he would give them in exchange for their work, made the slaves of the camp work in cruel conditions. Sometimes they would even whip the weaker creatures until the skin on their backs split and bled. Reliba was dragged into the line and chained to two other beasts. The chain felt cruelly cold against her leg and it was very tight; it felt as if the circulation was being cut off, so her paw went numb.

Once she was securely chained into the line, a speaker stood on a hill in front of a forming crowd. The speaker was short and stubby and had obviously had too many treats at one point. He spoke with a certain assertiveness, but with a unkind hint. “These creatures have been sentenced to the death maze!” he yelled at the exited crowd at the top of his small voice. The crowd laughed and cheered, everyone loved seeing a sentence it was like a sporting match to them. “Lead them away!” the beast addressing the crowd shouted once again. His words were followed by a vast array of shouting and exited bursts of noise from all the people watching, all except one. Stan looked on in horror as they took his friend, with the slave line to the start of the maze. He began to panic. No one had ever survived that maze. He jumped to his feet and, with a sudden burst of energy, sprinted as fast as he could to the scene. This could be the last time he ever would get to see her. And he loved her with all his heart; he may never get to tell her.

Attached to the slave line there wasn’t much Reliba could do to escape. There wasn’t much sense in escaping anyway. There wasn’t much sense in doing anything now but follow orders. The entire world had seemed to turn against her. At the start of the day everyone had greeted her with respect; but now she was seen as filth. See many creatures still respected her in their hearts but the powers of the royals were too much to defy against. Whatever they loved, you loved. Whatever they hated, you also had to hate. Any sort of defiance would certainly get the pursuer of that particular defiance punished. And so under the hardship of dictatorship if you had any bad royal publicity, such as did Reliba, any friends would be sure to turn against you, not because of their own wanting, of pure mental force and terror.

The entrance gates of the maze were sturdy and made of solid stone. It stood high above any beast and depicted amazing images. At the left hand side, vicious creatures were shown on a killing rampage, destroying towns and cities, mountains and valleys. On the right hand side, images of a powerful warrior destroying these creatures and sending them to hells gates where they belong. Reliba bowed her head as she was forced to enter her deathbed. For surely even though she had much knowledge and could sense things that many beasts couldn’t. Even though she had strong will power and would scale the tallest mountain for something she loved. She would never even hope to get through the dreaded maze. With all these thoughts spinning around Reliba’s head the journey onto the darkness was a long one. One of the guards came over and released her ankle from the chilling, restrictive chain. She turned her head and looked at the entrance of the maze sadly. She could’ve easily sprinted and slipped out of the door before it was closed, but then what was the point? If she did make it out, she would only be killed anyway? She might as well fight whatever was in the path of the maze before her than to be killed instantly. It was a hard choice to make; death now in a humiliating public massacre, or death in a maze knowing that even if she did make it out she would be killed for being ‘too powerful’. As she looked towards the entrance, the last thing she saw was the panicked expression on Stan’s face as he frantically tried to reach her, even if it was to say a last goodbye. Then the Guards shut and locked the door, shutting out all the morning sounds. The sound of children laughing, the smell of food being cooked on the fires, the secret sympathetic looks. As if they had just said goodbye to a walking corpse. Death is a strange thing when it is forced. Can it be avoided?