A lone woman tumbled out from the forest into a clearing. She had traveled many days fighting her way through the forest, and it simply was not the place for a kajira. The village she once resided in had been raided by bandits and she managed to barely escape with her life. She simply continued running south. No collar bore her pretty little neck, as she was just given into a slave trade and the raid happened too quickly for normal processes. She was an intelligent little wench, having spent the last several years learning the ways of Gor on her own, she had no teacher, and needed none. She had stolen only a single dagger from a camp that she had passed by one night unsuspectingly. That dagger alone saved her life more than just a few times during her journey, she sheathed it in a scrap of bosk fur tied amongst her hip. She was a petite, curvy woman with sun-kissed skin, bright hazel eyes and long cascading auburn locks. Her breasts were round, perky, and beautiful, and her hips had just the right amount curve. Her body was truly enticing and hinted every ounce of temptation. The journey had not been kind to the poor woman, as she was covered with dirt and scratches from the underbrush, but she was used to the torcher. Having been amongst the Tuchuk, Assassins, Builders, Slavers, Scribes, and Kennel Mistresses, she had picked up a lot through her life on Gor. She was prideful of her knowledge, but in a subliminal way. She knew better than to promote her intelligence as it could also become her weakness amongst Men.
Literate, was she, long ago she was taken in by the Scribe of the City, who loved her dearly and taught her literacy. In that same city, she learned how to dance, and her fire inside of her grew for pleasure and servitude of the Free. She had called that place Home for many years before the brutal assassination of her Mistress and disappearing of her Master shortly afterward in grievance of His lost Free Companion. Again, she was left alone without a collar bearing her neck, at the mercy of the cruel Gor world.
It was not often that a slave knew how to use a dagger, or even be seen with one, but she had witnessed more than her share of blood shed, having at one point traveled with an Assassin as well as Tuchuk. Her mind wandered back to her first enslavement when she was one frightened little woman, fearing for her life at the mercy of Man. It almost astounded her at how much she had progressed. <br>
She lifted her head to see what seemed to be an unclaimed outpost. She couldn't tell from a distance if it was inhabited or not, but she was parched of thirst and felt the need to take the risk. She quickly ran up to the gushing river that flowed before the Home and cupped her hands into it to quench her tongue and wash her face. Once her thirst was satisfied, she quietly rose to take in her surroundings. She basked in the beauty of the full fruit and herb garden and a ranch quickly available of bosk. There was a tent there also, in the open, for a physician. She cautiously made her way to the doors of the large Home and peeked inside to see no inhabitants. Her body sunk to the ground to lean against the wood grain and rest before wandering once more. It was not often, if ever a slave would wander, as the world of Gor was no place for it. But at this point, she hadn't a choice and she had to keep moving. She had no idea what would happen if she ran across Man, but she was ready for any odds.....