9873 never imagined what would it be like to be free. Even know, seeing what had been for years her home on fire, the flames swallowing the building whole, red and orange light dispersing across the mist against the darkened sky of midnight, she could only think about working. 

Her instincts were telling her to go back into the safety of the sleeping dorms, with everyone else. But there was no one left there, except a few guards they had locked in to buy time. She had hoped they would be able to get out in time. The screams that came from the inside said otherwise.

People ran in every direction, trying to find a way to escape that place before the dust set and reinforcements were sent. The girl saw an old man being carried by a younger man, hanging tight to his broad and muscular back, both sweating profusely and covered in coal and ashes. A little girl was being dragged by her mom, who held her little hand firmly while she stumbled towards the tree line.

Everyone was fleeing around the now free slave, and all she could think about was that in three hours they would have to get up, have breakfast and then, go have their first shift.

Figures tripped and desperately tried to get out of the clear, covered in the dark cloak of night. While they slowly disappeared, she held the note that had been keeping her sane for the last three months.

It was an old piece of parchment, folded a million times over time, and now almost illegible. But she already knew from heart the words inscribed on it: 

"We are going to break you all out of here.

Find Snake Bay and meet me there. You can bring someone else but not more than two other people. Don't tell anyone you don't trust about this note or its contents.

Hold in there, you'll soon taste freedom.

Signed,

Death itself."

9873 stared deep into the forest. She then looked at the stars. After a while of trying to recall how to find the stars that would lead her west, as that old fisherwoman had taught her, she finally figured it out. That old woman was the only one that had known about the note.

There was no one else in the clearing anymore, and the screams of help from the inside had stopped. She turned and went for the treeline too, now knowing she was going the right way.

A few gunshots were heard on the distance. Those bastards were hunting down the fugitives that had fled north. She continued sprinting west, with tears rolling down her cheeks. On her arms, she hugged tightly a pickaxe, the only tool she could use for protection. On her back, a ripped blanket, filled with as little as she had been able to set aside from every meal for the last three months, held tight to her shoulders. It hadn't been easy, as everyone there was malnourished. Especially the girl, since her broad back and shoulders and muscular arms, product of the endless work on the quarry, required an extra of calories she wasn't being fed.

She stumbled her way through the trees and bushes, cutting herself with the wild weeds and trying her best not to trip with the branches and roots everywhere.

The gunfire wasn't audible anymore, which only gave her more anxiety. The forest, filled with trees, surrounded her in the darkness. Every tree could be hiding a guard, every bush could be filled with snakes and every plant could be poisonous. The shades that those giant pines cast covered the area in uncertainties and probable dangers. 

She spent the night running, just sprinting in a constant search for less of those annoying weeds and plants and more of that sweet freedom. The girl knew that if any soldier found her, they would shoot her with no hesitation. At least that was the best option. She didn't want to think of the worst. At least exhaustion and pain could keep her darkest thoughts more or less away.

After what felt like an eternity, her lungs burning and threatening to collapse, the sun started rising. She then finally allowed herself to stop for a rest. She broke a rock with her pickaxe, and picked up one of the flakes. While staring at the beautiful shades of orange, from pale to almost red, which reminded her of the fire at the main dorms, she slowly marked another day on her arm with the improvised tool, while breathing sharply. The entire arm was entirely filled with faded marks of stripes, each line representing one day. This was the last time she marked one, the girl told herself. Though her captivity was finally gone.

2672 marks. 

Around 7 years. And now she was finally free.

Her mind still ran on the old routines. A voice in the ex-slave's head wouldn't stop telling her to wake up, and get ready for work. She had to remind herself multiple times that she wouldn't have to work anymore, at least not on the quarry. It was definitely reassuring to know that.

She ate just enough for her stomach to stop growling and went on with her journey, with a renewed much more relaxed pace. 

On three different occasions the worker heard gunshots. The first time they were really far away. She just hid into some bushes and waited silently, trying to hold her breath.

The second time, it was quite closer. Close enough for her to be able to tell when the bullet had hit by the screams of agony and close enough for her to, among the bushes, holding her tears, be able to tell when the sabres finished the job by the violent silence that followed. She remembered that bard that had been arrested for criticizing the Royal Army and the Great Holy Queen. He liked to recite poems about deafening silence. She now knew. Silence isn't deafening unless you have a noise to compare it with, unless you don't want it to be there.

Suddenly the singing birds where small psychopaths, ignoring or rejoicing on the death of her fellow worker, making art after the tragedy, or maybe about the tragedy.

The third time she heard shots it was the worst one. Because now they were way too close. She had hidden behind a tree, which didn't stop her from seeing the girl that had been carried by her mother that same night, so long ago. She had her little hands and clothing smeared in blood, except for two clear paths among the crimson red traced by her tears.

The soldiers entered the clear just behind her. But now she wasn't alone. And the last shot she heard that day was the scariest. Because it happened just in front of her, as she used her body to protect the little slave girl.