I hope you enjoy this rewritten chapter and I welcome any feedback or ideas you might have for future chapters. Your thoughts mean a lot as I continue shaping this story.
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Argento knelt low, chest flattened against the box, his breath catching with each sound that echoed through the tent. His eyes flared briefly with an odd golden glow. Veyra clutched his sleeve, shaking, her small fingers curling around the cloth like a lifeline.
"Do you think we'll be caught?" she whispered, voice barely a tremor against the heavy air.
He didn't answer right away. The sound of chains, the groan of boots in wet earth, the muffled crack of a whip, all pressed down on them.
"Where do we go?" she breathed again, a quiver of fear in her tone.
A darkness passed across them. Argento's pulse quickened. He froze, forcing his body to be silent. A guard's lamp swung by, casting a cone of glowing orange light into the darkness. Then it swiftly moved on.
"He exhaled delicately through ruptured lips, the tension in his limbs easing in brief tremors."
The crate's wood creaked under his weight. For a moment, he thought the sound would betray them. Then, with a subtle shift, the board loosened. The seam widened just enough.
Argento pushed Veyra forward and said, "Go." She stood there wide-eyed, before moving into the gap. He followed her, pushing the container back into position.
Around them, other slaves stayed motionless, their eyes hollow. No one spoke. No one dared.
The walkways between the cages were tiny, with fractured poles, damp straw, and puddles that reflected torchlight in irregular patterns.
A blast of wind blew the tent flaps open, releasing dust and smoke into the gloomy interior. Argento and Veyra were briefly exposed to light.
Argento pulled himself flat to the ground, his little fists grasping the soil, till the torchlight faded. He lifted his head slightly, golden eyes studying the changing shadow.
Whispers spread among the nearby captives. A man mouthed "go left" before turning away. A woman tapped the ground gently twice to indicate that a guard's footsteps had vanished.
Veyra followed his lead silently. Her bare feet slid amid the muddy straw, but Argento held her steady each time, their breaths mingling in the dense, humid air.
A container twisted abruptly beneath his grasp. The sound broke through the quiet like thunder. Argento froze, jaw tight, heart pounding. The nearest guard turned his head, but did not approach.
Argento's lungs began functioning only when the man had moved on.
The canvas ahead bulged somewhat due to the wind. Just beyond it, a pale golden light flickered... A world saturated with noise.
"Almost," he mouthed to Veyra.
They slipped through the narrow spaces between the carts and barrels, avoiding the crowd's rhythm. An intoxicated merchant staggered near them, pouring ale down his shirt; Argento moved Veyra aside before the guy noticed. The ground was coated in a layer of food crumbs and pottery shards.
When a child rushed past and bumped against his shoulder, Argento nearly collapsed. His hand shot out to brace himself against a barrel, causing it to rock slightly. Veyra whimpered.
"It's okay," he whispered quickly. "I've got you." His own voice was shaking, but he forced it to sound steady.
They huddled behind a merchant's stand, the air heavy with spices and smoke. Argento placed a finger to his lips and listened. The sounds all around them merged into a faint buzz.
"Do you think… we'll make it?" Veyra's whisper trembled.
Argento's throat tightened. He looked to the next stretch of open ground...
"We just have to keep moving," he murmured.
He didn't say yes. He couldn't.
From their hiding place, Argento risked a glance toward the grand stage occupying the center of the square. It glistened with silk flags and gilded insignia that shone in the torchlight. On top of it stood the Celestial Dragons...
Their attendants bowed low, scurrying about with nervous energy. Nobles leaned forward in their seats, whispering and laughing, their jeweled robes catching the light. The festival's noise dulled, all focus shifting to the stage.
One of the Dragons moved forward, his voice cutting through the air like a razor."Listen carefully," he urged, his tone clear and strong. "The prey will shortly be released. The Native Hunting Competition begins shortly."
Excitement swept through the crowd.
Another Dragon approached him, with sculpted blonde hair that formed a curving tusk-like spike that rose and bent over his head. Each thread shone like polished ivory. "We've already let several people flee. Their every step is being watched. Hunters can employ nets, whips, and flintlocks..." , "Kill them for all I care."
The audience murmured, excited. Several nobles made wagers, whereas others pointed to the far corners of the square, where slaves had fled into the smoke.
A third Dragon raised a jeweled hand. "Any interference by spectators will be punished severely. Those who aid the slaves defy the gods themselves!" His words were met with applause.
The tusk-haired guy continued "We refuse to tolerate traitors who question the sanctity of the World Government," voice dripping with mockery.
The drumming stopped. The air became silent, heavy, and motionless.
The first Celestial Dragon lifted both arms. "All slaves have been released!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing around the area. His grin cut across his face like a scar.
The tusk-haired man continued, "Let the Native Hunting Competition begin!"
Cheers erupted from the audience. Hunters surged forward, boots hammering across the earth. Nets spread, torches blazed, and swords flashed.
A flare exploded above, turning the darkness a fiery crimson.
Argento slipped down beneath the stall, dragging Veyra with him. The light streamed through the ripped linen, colouring her face crimson. She clamped her hands over her ears and forced her eyes shut as the first bullets rang out throughout the festival.
Smoke thickened. The sound of hunting filled the air.
The hunt had begun.