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Part II Chapter 41 - Leven

***Lynett***

I'm pissed. I'm pissed. I'm fucking pissed.

I stomped my way towards the hill, trying to calm myself down, but this annoying feeling of irritation didn't leave my heart.

Why am I so pissed?

"Should I kill them?" a little voice suddenly spoke up.

"What?"

I winced at Cottontail's unexpected proposition.

"You're upset," she explained, seeing the surprise on my face.

I don't usually let my emotions be apparent, but Cottontail perfectly read through me. [Familiar Contracts] synchronized emotions between the contractors, allowing the familiar to understand better its master's needs. Being bound together, Cottontail could easily gauge my emotional state.

"It's fine," I told her.

"But they've upset you," the fox girl insisted anyway, "they should be punished for it."

I sighed.

"Cotton," I called out, "you can't go around killing people just because I'm a little upset."

Cottontail frowned, clearly disagreeing with me.

"Besides, it's not them," I continued, "it's me."

I was being abnormally irritated. Slaves couldn't be blamed for their situation, they were the victims in this story. I perfectly understood that. Yet, I couldn't help but feel irritated looking at them. And it wasn't empathy that I was feeling. Not even close.

Unhappy with my decision, Cottontail fell silent, sulking behind me.

Trying to settle down this growing feeling of annoyance in my heart, I continued walking for a few minutes. Then, having reached our destination, I stopped, my eyes cast up a small hill, on a huge canvas shelter.

Okay, I'm here. If Troy's alive, this is where I'll find him. It's also where I'm most likely to find the slavers' leader. Killing two birds with one stone. But how do I get there? The shelter was guarded, clearly secluded for a reason.

"What are you looking at?"

Not too far from here, a slaver noticed me approaching.

"Fall back in line," he ordered with a raspy voice.

The slaver gave me a threatening glare, warning me not to come any closer. Guessing that he was probably on watch, I suddenly figured out how to go to the canvas shelter. If the slavers won't allow me to go there by my own will, I just need them to be the ones to bring me there, just like with Troy. In other words, I just need to commit an act of insubordination.

"Didn't you hear me?" the slaver growled as I didn't budge, "fuck off."

The slaver was not alone. There were three of them, all seated around a fire. But considering their red flushed cheeks and the bottles lying discarded on the ground, they had clearly been drinking all afternoon. Perfect. Alcohol makes people sensitive, easy to provoke.

"Dickhead," I spat, not missing the opportunity to vent all my frustration on him.

The slaver flinched at my random insult.

"What did you say?" he frowned, unsure of what he just heard.

"Arsehole."

Confused at first, the slaver exchanged an inquiring look to his pals, but they were just as bewildered as him.