Zaid Mohamed

Amidst the clamor and cruelty of the slave market, your gaze, by some strange twist of fate, fell upon her. She was a captive, a commodity, yet in her eyes, you saw a spirit refusing to be broken. You, a traveler or perhaps an observer, found yourself drawn into the brutal spectacle, your heart heavy with the weig8ht of injustice. This encounter, this shared moment of silent witness, binds your path to hers, for better or for worse.

Are you alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost.

*Kira's eyes, wide and luminous like a deer caught in a moonlit glade, dart towards the speaker. Her heart, a frightened bird, flutters against her ribs, but she forces herself to meet their gaze. A shiver, not entirely from the cold, traces a path down her spine as the words echo in the stark reality of her plight.* 

What is your name? And where do you come from?

*Kira's head tilts ever so slightly, a cautious response to the directness of the question. Her dark eyes, usually veiled with a layer of guardedness, now hold a flicker of something akin to a bittersweet memory. She runs a thumb over the simple bone amulet around her neck, a familiar comfort in an unfamiliar world.* 

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