Chương 15: The Silent Tail
Chapter: 14
I worked alongside my mother, both of us humming the soft, lilting tune of a song she had taught me as we moved through the cotton fields. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and the distant hum of other slaves laboring nearby. Not too far from us, I could see Abeni, standing with a group of women, making small talk as they worked. She seemed relaxed, even smiling occasionally at something one of the older women said.
It dawned on me, as I watched them, that I had barely spoken to the other slaves on the plantation. The few people I had interacted with were Abeni, my mother, and occasionally the overseers. Even before I was reborn into this world, I hadn't been much of a socializer. In my old life, I could count my friends on one hand, and here, in this strange new existence, it seemed that some things never changed.
"Kael." My mother's voice pulled me from my thoughts, gentle but firm.
"Yes, Mother?"
"The basket is full. Can you carry it back for me, please?" She gestured to the overflowing basket of cotton at her feet.
"Of course," I said, lifting the basket easily and heading toward the drop-off point.
As I made my way across the plantation, I kept an eye on my surroundings, instinctively scanning for anything out of place. This habit had become second nature over the years—a survival skill that Abeni and I had honed during our secret training sessions. It wasn't long before the sound of a whip cracking through the air caught my attention, followed by the pained cry of a child.
I froze, my body tensing as I turned toward the source of the noise. There, not too far off, was one of the slavers, his arm raised as he brought the whip down on a boy no older than ten. The child cringed, his body already bearing the welts from previous strikes.
My vision blurred with rage, and I felt the air around me crackle with the faint energy of my killing intent. From where I stood, the slaver's face contorted in confusion and fear, as though he could feel something dark and dangerous closing in on him. His arm faltered mid-swing, the whip hanging limply by his side as he looked around, his eyes darting across the field, searching for the source of the terror that gripped him.
He quickly barked at the boy to get back to work and then scurried off, his eyes wide and his steps hurried. The boy scrambled to his feet, clutching his side as he staggered back toward the fields. I forced myself to calm down, reining in the killing intent before anyone else noticed. Then, without another word, I grabbed two more baskets and headed back to my mother.
P.O.V switch
The crack of the whip sounded sharp in the afternoon air as I brought it down on the kid's back again. "Work harder, damn you," I spat, raising the whip for another strike. The little brat had slowed down, his weak arms barely able to keep up with the demands of the field. Useless, the lot of them.
But before I could bring the whip down again, a chill ran down my spine. My breath hitched as my hand froze in mid-air, the leather strap quivering in my grip. A weight, unlike anything I had ever felt before, pressed down on me, suffocating and crushing. My heart raced as my vision darkened around the edges.
I blinked, but nothing changed. The world around me warped, and I saw—no, I felt—death. My death. Over and over again, in so many ways. My throat slit, my body torn apart by some unseen force, my bones crushed under the weight of an invisible hand.
What the hell...?
I staggered back, looking around wildly, trying to shake the feeling, but it only intensified. My breaths came in short gasps, sweat pouring down my face. The boy I had been beating was forgotten, his pitiful cries barely registering in my mind. All I could see—feel—was the terror, the overwhelming certainty that I was going to die. Right here. Right now.
I released the whip, my hand trembling, and ordered the boy back to work in a voice that barely sounded like my own. Then, without another glance, I turned and fled, my feet carrying me as fast as I could manage.
I made it back to where my mother was waiting, handing her one of the baskets. She smiled at me as we continued our work, unaware of the turmoil that had just unfolded not far from where we stood.
The rest of the day passed in relative silence, with the rhythmic movements of picking and gathering offering a strange kind of peace. As night fell, Abeni joined my mother and me for dinner, the three of us sitting together in the dim light of the slave quarters.
"Ah, Abeni," my mother greeted warmly, her eyes crinkling with affection. "How are you, my dear?"
"I'm doing well, Miss Yewande," Abeni replied, settling down next to us. Her voice was calm, though her eyes flicked briefly to me, clearly curious about what had happened earlier.
"That's good to hear," my mother said, nodding as she passed Abeni a small loaf of bread.
Abeni smiled, accepting the bread with a quiet "thank you" before turning her attention to the simple meal before us. We ate in companionable silence, the soft sounds of the other slaves settling down for the night providing a strangely soothing background.
As the night stretched on, and everyone around us fell asleep, Abeni and I slipped out of the quarters, making our way silently to our training area. The moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the fields as we reached our usual spot on the hilltop, overlooking the plantation.
"It's hard to believe that in three days, we'll be leaving this place," Abeni said, her voice soft as she stared out at the distant flicker of torches near the overseers' quarters.
"Indeed," I replied, leaning back against the tree. "Three days. I hope you've been making memories here."
"I have," Abeni said, her lips curving into a small smile. "Trust me."
"Good." I stood up, stretching out my limbs as I glanced down at her. "Alright, let's start training."
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Abeni replied, getting to her feet as flames flickered around her fingertips.
The next day, I returned to the fields with my mother as usual, but something was off. I had noticed it earlier that morning—someone was following us, watching our every move. The feeling of being observed hadn't let up since sunrise, and now, as I worked alongside my mother, I could sense the presence behind me, lingering just beyond sight.
Abeni was on the other side of the plantation, working with the cotton pickers, so I was alone in the banana fields with my mother. But even with her by my side, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in my gut.
I glanced over my shoulder, and there he was—a boy, maybe fifteen years old, with short, curly black hair and brown eyes. His skin was lighter than mine, a shade that marked him as the offspring of a slave and a slaver, no doubt. He was dressed in the typical male slave attire, but there was something off about him. His eyes tracked my every movement, his posture tense.
Later, when Abeni and I finally reunited, I told her about the tail we'd picked up. She wasn't surprised.
"I noticed him too," she said, her voice low.
I leaned in closer, whispering a plan in her ear. A grin spread across her face as she nodded in agreement.
That night, we made our way to the training area, deliberately loud, knowing full well that we were being followed. Once we reached the clearing, I spoke aloud for the benefit of our unwanted guest.
"Two days until we leave," I said, loud enough for the boy trailing us to hear.
"Yeah," Abeni replied, just as loud. "Two days, and we're finally free."
I turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. "Now then, let's deal with our tail, shall we?"
Abeni smirked, her wind magic already swirling around her. "Yes, let's."
In an instant, we vanished, moving with the speed that years of training had given us. We reappeared behind the boy, our elemental weapons pressed to his throat—Abeni's wind spear, and my lightning sword.
"Now," I whispered into his ear, my voice low and dangerous, "care to tell us why you've been following us?"
Chapter 14:End
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