A simple question

"Come here girl." He commanded. His icy blue eyes were soft, perhaps speckled with a bit of care, a touch of tenderness, and an abundance of scrutiny. His voice barely above a whisper was laced with something I had not expected from this tall man; concern and resignation, but the tone relayed absolute control and no room for question.

And so I went to him, without question, without thought or hesitation. I went to him and placed myself on the floor before him. I barely registered the course woven rug against my knees as I knelt, my body pulled tight like a small ball trembling below him, bent over so far my forehead rested upon the top of his boot.

He spoke again quietly so that my ears had to strain to make out each word. "And tell me girl, why do you desire to be kajira?"

In that moment I realized this was a kind man. Not a man made up of the horrors that had terrified me. He was different from the exaggerated stories told to frighten and excite. He commanded but he did not take. He molded but he did not break. He was a man to be trusted, his word absolute should he choose to speak it. And his question was simple.

The answer that he sought from me not so much........

(c) Sierra Sugar 02.02.2013