::There is nothing left for me now::

It was oddly warm in the dark hold of the ship that took him further away from his home than he had ever wanted to go, only hours away from docking at some foreign port.

The young warrior couldn't even remember which direction 'home' was in anymore. How he longed to see the endless plains and rolling, golden savanna of his homeland. He held back his tears as he huddled up in his cage, his expression blank and devoid of emotion. It was not long before the sound of footsteps and the light from a lantern would bring an almost painful illumination to the large cargo hold.

"Get up, It's time for your supper. Hey, boy! You still alive in there?"

The slaver's words barely registered to the young Nubian, the weight of his thick iron shackles unable to compare to the heaviness of his heart. His mentor was gone. Killed by these pale-skinned demons and cast into the deep blue. They took his weapons, his friend, and now they came for his dignity.

"Hey! I see you breathin' in there! You better answer me, boy."

The sweat the beaded up on the young man's brownish skin glistened in the light the lantern provided. As hungry as he was, he would not eat. He resolved that his final act of defiance would be his own death. If they sought to make a profit off the Nubian, then they would find little to be gained from his rotting corpse. He hoped he would really stink and would fall apart in their hands when they tried to get rid of him. He prayed to his ancestors that they would allow his spirit to remain here and drive the pale-men mad. A sharp blow to his ribs broke any concentration he had in his silent revere.

"I said ANSWER ME, boy!" Another jab with the stick would cause the young man to curl up, unable to muster the will to even yell. That was when he saw it. A glint that was so feint, he almost missed it. The slaver had the keys the warrior needed hanging from his hip. Lifting the latch of his cage, the slaver opened it with an angered snatch.

"You're gonna eat this an' you're gonna eat it NOW! Get out here!"

~*Never leave opportunity to bake in the sun. It spoils quickly*~

The words of his mentor rung loudly in his head as he crawled out of his cage to approach his bitter repast as meekly as he could muster. The sailor sneered as he lifted his foot with every intent to bring it down on this uppity savage's head and press his face into the swill he seemed to think he was too good for. In a moment that seemed to stretch on for eons, Massai formed his plan and prayed to his ancestors to guide his hands.

The slaver's boot would find purchase, not on the head of his captive, but on the newly sickened floor. Massai dropped the, now empty, bowl he was holding and would grab the surprised sailor's leg, sliding his foot along the slick surface to bring him crashing into the floor. Massai leapt onto the man, bringing his heavy manacles down on the sailor's head with a sickening crunch, killing the man dead.

It was a small thing to find the warrior to rid himself of his arm's restraints, but ridding himself of his collar was another thing altogether. He knew he had no time left. His ancestors had provided him with an opening to make his escape. He would be insulting their hard work if he did not make good on it. It would have to stay for now.

On his way out of the hold he found his mentor's personal weapon, carelessly discarded among a pile of refuse. It was a staff made from wood cut from the core of a thousand year old tree a hundred generations ago. On both ends, a spear head would be attached creating a well-balanced weapon, four feet long from speartip to speartip. He finally allowed himself a moment to weep as he retrieved this, the last thing he had, to connect him to his lost homeland from the pile. Even as it was surrounded in waste, it still seemed able to retain its majesty.

Massai would silently thank his ancestors for the lesson in humility as he made his way up to the moonlit ship's deck, ignoring the angered yells of his former captors and the anguished moans of the other slaves as he threw himself over the side of the ship, swimming into the night.