17

Mare's footsteps faltered as she approached the village. The sun was high in the sky and she was sweating under the weight of the cloak yet on the fields were Baryns working endlessly under the unyielding sun.

Sweat dripped from their bodies soaking their tunica until they clung to their bodies. The people who were not cultivating the fields were guiding sheep, goats, pigs and birds into pens to feed. Those who did neither of those two works worked in shacks and shops with metal. They beat metals into weapons and tools. Or gold into pieces of jewelry for the Arlankis. All of this was nothing unusual but what was unusual was the increased number of Arlankis soldiers moving among the people with leather whips ready to mark the backs of the Baryns.

Beneath the protection of the hood of her cloak Mare watched with despair as the soldiers raised their hands with the whips in them and brought them cracking down on the backs of Baryns who slacked off in their works. All around her were cries