Wind caressed the flame colored leaves of the season and sent little whirlwinds of debris rushing through the forest. There was a sense of anticipation on the wind, a sort of tension that the land had not felt in hundreds if not thousands of years.
The land itself was home to all manner of beasts of varying levels of intelligence, one of which considered itself the most intelligent than the rest. They called themselves the Eroc and believed that their powers of tool use and language made them far superior and thus entitled to enslave their kindred that did not use a spoken language, the Kuro.

As far back as the memories of the Eroc people the Kuro had been their servants in any manner that their masters saw fit. The most frequent however was the use of the Kuro men as Incubi or servants of the body. Kuro’s were valued based on their softness of skin, understanding of his or her master’s orders, beauty in facial structure and either darkness or lightness of skin.

The wind swirled into a little corpse of woods deep within the mountains and settled onto the pale face of a sleeping Kuro. He had dark lashes that stood out against the milky rose of his cheeks. His face seemed to inspire the ideas of angels and demons, almost preternatural in his pale beauty. His hair was black, but when he moved in his sleep, red highlights could be seen. As a leaf settled against his neck he stirred and sat awake.

He shivered against the morning chill and looked around for something to cover his nude chest. He was surrounded by what seemed to be the remnants of wagons still steaming from charred marks along the wood, but he didn’t see anything that could be used to stave off the wind. As he stood he settled the black flowing pants back onto his hips and wiggled his toes into the (forest carpet) for warmth.
The debris seemed to stretch through the entire clearing in chunks no larger than his forearm. It occurred to him that whatever had done this to his masters must have left him for some reason. It was not uncommon for Eroc households to battle each other but they never left behind any spoils and he had many masters that valued him for his beauty alone. It was even possible that his current masters had been attacked to possess his collar.

But why would he be left behind? He shook his head. It was not a slave’s place to wonder why anything happened. It was his responsibility to find his current collar holder.

He reached up to fondle the piece of leather and silver that had been around his neck since he was a young boy. His eyes widened in shock and his hands flew up to nothing surrounding his neck. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. The collar was never taken off for more than a moment to wash underneath it. To be without a collar was to be without a master and a Kuro male such as he could find himself in very dangerous situations. There were slavers that looked for ones such as him, rouges from the Kuro family homes or their rightful masters.
The trade of Kuro’s was surprisingly structured with no Kuro unaccounted for and only the ones with certain traits were allowed to breed. He had known this from the cradle and his mother had always warned him to never loose his master. She had spoken of evil beasts that lived in the forests that feasted specifically on Kuro flesh and of the free traders that would sell him to sick people that would do horrible things to his flesh.

With no collar and no master to name him he felt a loss of his sense of identity. Panic threatened to overwhelm him again and his body tensed, but the panic was chased away by the sweet name his mother once called him when he was a very small boy; Noir. She had called him her little shadow and told him that Noir was the word for night in a language that the Kuro were no longer permitted to speak.
So here in the middle of the forest he would be Noir the shadow, at least until he found his master. A strange feeling crept over him, laced with fear, but more of curiosity. It was the first time since he was a boy that he wondered about the world outside of his master’s and he wondered if it was true what some of the slave-girls whispered in the hidden hallways of the cities, that the monsters outside were not so frightful, just territorial. And legends of golden stags that would lead the Kuro people to a different life.

At the time he had disregarded them as fanciful girl things and had laughed at them and pinched them, but now alone in the passing morning he couldn’t help but wonder and his heart leapt for boyhood things. He twirled in the undergrowth and danced his joy until he was out of breath and his skin was flushed.

He giggled and wished that his mother was here to enjoy the sense of freedom with him. He would be her little shadow again someday, but he would have such an adventure to tell her!