The household of Nartak Rohonadan, a Jupani noble who has made a living from the spice trade. Business has been extremely dry as of late, and the master's household has suffered. Nartak has always tried his best to impress his fellow nobles… and as the shekels that so freely ran through his household have begun to dwindle, that lifestyle has started to cause his downfall. Collectors have been pounding at his door, and the slaves of the household have been very worried.

"The master is hardly ever out this late," signs Naoko, a one-eared Savanite who is considered to be the 'elder' of the household. She nervously peels some tubers over a bowl. "We shall not sleep very well tonight; I hear he has started drinking again."

Leeta watches Naoko sign, her own fingers nervously rubbing against each other. She gives a slight jump as cuts herself with a claw, then signs quickly to cover it up, "Will there be dinner to serve tonight, or… "

Her sign trails off as she realizes she doesn't want to ask any more than that.

Naoko peels a bit harder, as if imagining that the tuber was something else. "Barely a meal, but we must make do with what we have. The only other alternative is to ask the master to allow us the money to go fetch more." The elderly Savanite winces, "Master Nartak does not like to hear speak of money… "

Leeta watches the elder Savanite peel, wishing there was something she could do to wash down the nervousness that has been following her, some work to occupy her mind or hands, "Do… do you wish me to ask the master?"

The one eared Savanite just stares to Leeta; she raises her hand to sign something… but a loud *SLAM* from downstairs jolts her. There's the sound of muffled shouts, followed by a high pitched barking cry, and a dull thud.

She wishes to run, fast, like a spreading fire, if even only down to the market for some food. Outside, running, maybe Leeta would be able to outdistance her problems, even if for only a moment.

"Master is home," Naoko signs.

The red-maned Savanite nods, her ears straining to hear something, anything, to give her an early warning on her master's desires. Anything to lessen the bite of his mood.

Reseth, one of the younger Savanites of the household, stumbles into the kitchen. She clutches the side of her face. "Master is hungry; he wants Bromthen shank." Her left eye is slightly red, and tears stream down her face to mingle with the black tearmarks on her fur.

"But we do not have… " Naoko begins, and then stops. She sighs and looks at Leeta.

Leeta looks quickly to Naoko, also signing, But we do not have… Then nods, looking at the older Savanite. "I shall go tell him. Is there anything I can bring him to lessen his anger when I do?"

The red maned Savanite wishes her task was as easy as running down the enormous tusked beast, and not the difficult one she faces now.

"He's crazy with drink!" Reseth signs. "He'll beat you!" She rubs her now swelling eye as if to emphasize that point.

Leeta gets a damp cloth and holds it to Reseth's cut face, then signs, "I know, but he is not himself right now, and someone will have to tell him. Perhaps he … perhaps he won't."

Leeta continues to sign, "Just help Naoko. Don't worry – this will pass, I'm sure."

Reseth sniffles a bit and holds the cloth to her face. "He is downstairs in his office," she signs with her free hand. Her hand moves as if to add something to this, but she stops, and just shakes her head. There's no advice on dealings with the master beyond avoiding him that can help.

There's another thundering slam from downstairs, followed by the distinctive sound of shattering glass.

Leeta nods, and very quickly and quietly slips out. She holds her hands tightly against her churning stomach, trying to compose something to say to her drunk master. She cringes, at sounds of shattering crystal.

She taps just loud enough on the door to the office, then opens it and enters.

Nartak sits hunched over his desk, a shattered ale bottle lying next to him. He grunts as the Savanite enters, but pays her no further notice beyond that.

Leeta looks around, wishing the master would ask her to play the mandolin, so her hands wouldn't be able to tell him that there is no supper to be had. She quietly rushes up to the desk and starts picking up the pieces of the shattered bottle.

She carefully puts the pieces in the wastebasket, waiting for the master to look at her.

The Jupani still doesn't pay the Savanite the slightest bit of notice. His attention seems focused upon several pieces of paper in front of him. Bills.

Finally, the wolf speaks. "Where… is my dinner?" he growls, looking as though he's almost speaking to the papers in front of him and not the slave.

Leeta wishes she had brought a cloth; she has nothing to wipe up the alcohol on the desk, and it may get on the master's papers. She moves in front of him, so he can see her sign.

Nartak's eyes slowly rise from his papers to just… glare at the Savanite.

She signs, her head bowed and her body tensing, expecting a blow. "Master, we cannot make you Bromthen hog; there is only tuber, Master."

Leeta signs, "There is no meat left, Master. I'm sorry Master, I'm sorry."

The slave desperately waves, "Let me run to the market, Master; I'll be quick. We will make you the dinner you ask for. Please, Master." Her eyes blink frantically.

The wolf just continues to stare. The slightest hint of a growl wafts out on his wine soaked breath. "Tubers… " he mutters after a few long seconds.

Nartak, with one swift motion sweeps the pile of papers from the desk and hurls them at the Savanite. "Damned slaves! You eat all my food… and all my shekels! I would have been a richer man without you." He rises from his seat and storms out of the room. "Pick up the papers and wait here," he snaps, not even looking at Leeta.

The slave nods, "Just tubers, Master, we are preparing them now for you… " – then jumps as the papers fly at her, then quickly crouches and starts gathering up the scattered bills.

Leeta scrabbles on the floor, picking up the bills, trying to make some sense of order to them, and placing them on Nartak's desk, keeping them out of any wet areas.

Her master's words still echo in her mind, any appetite gone and replaced by tense worry. She listens for his return, trying to group the bills, unsure of how her master had them.

The thundering footfalls of the master approach all too quickly. "Are you done yet?" he growls, and shoves a ten shekel piece towards the Savanite. "Go to the Arazon market and buy me their six meal. You and the rest of the slaves can go hungry tonight."

Leeta nods, signing, "Yes master," then takes the 10 shekel piece and quietly removes herself. Once outside the door she starts to sprint, with the shekel clutched tightly in her hand.

Once out the door, the way to the market is fairly routine. The master goes there quite frequently, and always orders the same thing.

She slips outside the house and sprints for the Arazon market, her red mane streaming behind her as her bare feet pad the road. She feels her thighs starting to burn, but she's running! If she just runs fast enough, everything will be fine.

Leeta feels the tension of the house leave her; she can run faster than her worries. They can't catch her; she's the wind on her face, and the air in her lungs, and the slap of the pavement, and there's just the sprinting and the freedom from worry.

As the Savanite reaches the market, the overweight Khatta behind the counter rises to greet her. The nice thing is that she doesn't have to even bother with trying to tell the chef what she wants. Unfortunately… instead of an eight shekel meal, they insist that she now must pay ten. The spice shortage and all, you understand.

Leeta stares at the Khatta, her eyes wide in a desperate horror as she signs, "The master will want his two shekels, please; he will beat me. We are going hungry tonight – There is no money to feed us, I need the two shekels, please."

The Khatta just picks at his teeth. "I'll go hungry tonight if I don't pull a profit, Spots. Times are tough all over; you catch whatever is it that's knocking the spice trader airships down, and we'll be more than happy to give you your two shekels."

She seems to shrink with his reply, bowing her head, feeling her worries catch up with her again. She signs, "I'm sorry; it was not my place to ask; thank you for the meat." Then, she takes up the meal and clutches it tightly in her arms.

Inside the paper container is a very strong-smelling chunk of Bromthen forest hog. The Savanite's stomach growls, reminding Leeta of exactly how long it's been since she last ate.

The Savanite turns and runs, darting back home. The wind whips through her hair, around her ears. She strains to see or hear anyone that might delay her as her feet fly, and she fights her hunger, trying to leave it in her red wake, with her other troubles.

Leeta sprints, feeling her legs burn, and her chest ache, her thoughts as fast as she is, { If I just get back in time, if we get the master his dinner, it will be all right; we will be all right. }.

The memory of Reseth's swollen eye comes to her, and gives speed to her limbs.

The master's house quickly rises into view. Reseth is there at the doorway, waiting. "He has said that there will be no dinner tonight!" she signs, looking worried.

Leeta runs up, panting, nodding her head, her arms full with the master's dinner. She nods, her eyes dry from her fast sprint. Unable to sign a reply she heads for the kitchen, momentarily glad her hands are already occupied.

The red haired slave takes the meal to the kitchen, placing it on the table. Here is the meal, Naoko; it needs to be made presentable. Oh, and a drink, Reseth; find something for the master to drink. I have to sit down."

Naoko quickly takes the package and begins placing it upon a plate. Reseth dashes off, and returns a few moments later with a bottle in one hand, and a glass of lukewarm water in the other.

Reseth offers the glass to the red haired cheetah; she looks very nervous.

Leeta crouches, her hands on the floor as she just pants, exhausted from her sprint, pulling in air. Then she stands, wiping her hands down her tunic, brushing her hair back, composing herself.

"Master Nartak wishes for you to serve him his meal," Naoko signs, glancing at Reseth.

Leeta signs, The master will want something stronger, I think. Oh please Reseth, do not drop it on the way. Let me go first, I have to tell him about the shekels."

She continues, "It was 10 shekels, not 8; they would not give me any change, the master will be very angry."

The elderly one-eared Savanite places the dish in Leeta's hands. She just shakes her head and makes the sign of the Star and Anchor across her chest.

"You're so brave, Fire-Mane!" Reseth signs. "Surely that is why the Star marked you."

Leeta nods in reply, and hurries carefully to the office. Placing the tray down on a table to open the door, then taking it and slipping quietly inside with the meal.

She approaches the master's desk, looking for some place to rest his meal.

The Jupani looks up from his desk as the slave enters. He points to a bare spot on the desk. "Put it there, then go close the door and sit down." He seems more sober now.

Leeta's stomach growls in hunger as she sets the meal down, making her tense at its noisy betrayal. She self-consciously moves, closing the door, the clunk of the wood frame sounding to her like the closing of a trap.

The Savanite sits on the edge of wooden seat, so that she will not leave much of the dust from her run on the master's furniture.

The wolf takes a huge bite out of the chunk of meat on his plate. He glares at the Savanite for a moment and then goes back to eating.

Nartak idly flips through his papers again, looking more and more upset. Finally he uncorks a bottle sitting hear the tray and begins drinking it with as much gusto as he used for the meal.

Leeta keeps her head bowed, her hands in her lap twisting the cloth of her tunic through her fingers in meaningless sign. She looks at her dusty feet, and wishes she could just run.

Leeta looks to see if the master will spare her any attention, or wants her attention.

The chime at the front door suddenly rings out, followed by a rough pounding noise. Before the Savanite has a chance to even blink, Nartak leaps from the desk and bursts out of the office. "Stay here," he growls sharply as he rushes by.

The door of the office slams closed again, offering not even a glance at who could be at the door.

The slave jumps at the slammed door, cutting herself on her claws again. {I will have to bite them down again,} the wound giving her an excuse to lick at her palm, as she strains her ears to try and hear what transpires outside the office.

Outside, the sound of two arguing voices is unmistakable. One, an unfamiliar voice, is accusing… while the other, the voice of the master, is more pleading.

Leeta squeezes her hands, watching the door, wishing she didn't hear her master begging so. Her tail-tip twitches in nervous fright, and she steps back on it with a foot to hold it down.

The argument continues for quite a long time – leaving Leeta in the master's office with the wafting smell of the spiced meat tormenting her.

Her mouth waters, the food so close. She so desperately wants to steal a bite from it, but she sees the bottle, and the smashed shards in the wastebasket, and knows what will happen to her if she does.

Leeta thinks, { Maybe, the master will be so upset he won't want to eat anymore, and we can have those leftovers. }

Finally, Nartak returns. He looks tired and weary. The Jupani almost falls into his chair and just stares at his now cold meal.

Leeta keeps her foot holding her tail-tip down, and her legs squeezed together, holding her hands still, and watches her master.

He growls angrily to himself and hurls the plate, food, dinnerware, and all into the wastebasket. Little gobbets of meat and bone fly out from the carcass. He swiftly walks up to the Savanite and wordlessly holds his hands out to her.

Leeta holds out her hands to her master.

Her hands shake and she desperately tries to still them, looking up at her master through her red mane.

The wolf growls and sharply slaps Leeta across the face. "You think I wish to play patter-cake??!? Give me my money."

Leeta falls from the chair, her face stinging as she stands, signing, "I have no money master; they charged me 10 shekels. I didn't forget; I asked; they wouldn't give me the change, Master."

The slave signs, "I'm sorry, Master; I asked; I'm sorry, Master. They wouldn't give me the change."

"What?!? WHAT?!?!?" he snarls. "I've gone there for the past three years and they've never raised prices on me… not even by a half shekel. What the hell would cause them change that now?"

The wolf fumes. "I feed you, clothe you. I even allowed you to learn to read and write. And THIS is the thanks I get – You STEAL from me!"

Leeta signs, "They said the spice shortage, Master. I wouldn't, Master, I didn't. Please, Master, I didn't, I wouldn't, Master."

Leeta realizes she's signed too much, contradicting her master.

The wolf looks to be on the verge of striking the Savanite again, but something stops him. "Dagh-forsaken shortage… it starves us all," he murmurs to himself, forgetting that the Savanite is even there anymore.

Leeta waits, still expecting a blow, afraid to move and call any more attention to herself, wishing she could run, or eat, her master's statement more true for her than him.

Nartak exits the room, growling over his shoulder, "Go into the study and take your seat there… I'll be with you shortly." A few moments after, he leaves, his footsteps pounding up the stairs echo through the house.

Leeta wishes so desperately to pick a scrap of meat of the floor, or try to pick the glass clean from the leftovers in the wastebin, but instead quietly heads to the study, and sits beside her master's chair.

Thump… thump… thump… comes the noise. The wolf returns, a bottle in one hand, and Leeta's mandolin in the other. He absently holds it loosely in his grip… letting it bounce against each step as he staggers down.

Leeta makes a small quiet gasp, hoping it won't damage the instrument. Her only hope is that she can make him forget with her music.

Narkak flops down in his chair and throws the instrument at the red haired Savanite. "Play something," he grunts.

She catches the instrument gingerly, and sets it in her lap, strumming it once to check the tune of the strings. Her hair drapes down over her face and shoulders, as she concentrates on the notes and starts to play.

The music drifts from the mandolin, high happy notes in a fast bouncy melody. Leeta thinks of bees in flight, and pretends one is in her mandolin, and she's chasing it through the scales.

The Savanite's song is interrupted by a spray of foul-smelling ale splashing her head. "Too fast," the wolf growls, sipping at the remaining contents of his bottle.

Leeta stops playing, the ale seeping through her hair and dripping down her back and onto the instrument. She lets it soak in, and starts playing something slower, but still with light notes, and a happy pace.

Nartak glares at Leeta. It would probably help if he said what kind of song he wanted… but he's not in much of a helpful mood right now. He draws his hand back, looking as though he's about to drench the slave again.

Each note rings and echos around the study with a solid tone – a wandering melody that flows like a river around tones. Leeta concentrates on the music, head bowed over the instrument, unaware of her master's displeasure.

The wolf lowers his hand, figuring ale is too precious right now to waste on slaves. He gives the red-haired Savanite's instrument a good kick, jolting it out of her hands for a few seconds. "I do not feel like listening to happy songs right now, slave. Not when my life is crumbling away."

Leeta jumps as the instrument is kicked, then catches it back, drawing it back to her lap, curling around it again and starting to play. The music sounds the same as the last song, but not quite; something is different.

The music is sad, the notes ring too long, like they're lonely and lost before the next one replaces it. The melody wanders lost through the scales. It keeps dropping into deep tones that never quite seem to fade, but just linger.

The song keeps trying to be happy but drags down. Notes spin off and seem to just vanish. Leeta plays, her mouth starting to water again, but this time from the tears filling her eyes.

Leeta thinks about how hungry she is, the line of blood down little Reseth's face, her kind master who never used to treat her this way, and all he must have lost. She feels the tears tracing down the markings on her muzzle, and dripping on her mandolin.

The wolf's hand rises again, but only to bring his bottle to his lips. He seems to have accepted this song, the noise of anguish and sadness. The wolf sits there quietly, listening to the tones and draining his bottle.

Leeta tries to blink away the tears obscuring the strings. She plays, she feels, losing notes but still not the sad, broken feel of the song. The ale seeps through her mane, to mingle with the tears on her face and drop onto the notes she's trying to play.

On it goes, until the Savanite's fingers are almost numb. But then her music is interrupted by another noise… and a welcome one at that…

*Skxxxxxxzzzk!* The wolf snores… loudly.

She looks up, her fingers aching, glad her master has finally found some peace. She lets her song quietly finish and fade, and waits to see if Narkak stirs, or if he will sleep for the night.

The Jupani doesn't move. He snores on.

Leeta quietly stands, carefully holding the instrument against her so it won't jar or speak out. She creeps from the room, closing the door behind her slowly making no noise. She sighs in relief, hugging the mandolin.

She quietly bounds upstairs and puts the instrument away, coming back down to head to her own resting place. She glances at the master's study, wishing he would be himself again, then pads downstairs.

Leeta lies in her bed, staring up, her mane and fur matted with ale and gritty with dust. Her stomach growls at her, and all the thoughts she wants to run away from crowd close. Sleep comes, eventually.