Kanu...

He sported a long, straight beard, completely white. His hair was also the colour of snow, immensely long and plaited into a heavy pigtail that hung between his shoulders.

a joy lost but not forgotten...

Kanu crept along silently, almost on all fours, past the corpse and underneath the scene of the rape. He moved quickly, until he was a few feet away from the back of the other lad, still digging for a bottle in the pack. The clinking of his chains was drowned out by moans and screams, as he brought his hands back over his head and flicked them downwards in a bullwhip motion. The chain cracked into the back of the youth’s head, crumpling the skull like eggshell. The rage increased and Kanu almost lost himself, teeth gritted, as he continued smashing the chain down onto the head of the now prone boy. The head was unrecognizable, pulped into the forest floor.

a strength of mind few will ever test...

Kanu was tired and emotional, his senses heightened and distorted to an extent, but he knew he could not let this feeling pass by. He had to hang on to this and maybe, somehow it could galvanise him into action. What action, he didn’t know, but maybe he could get his head straight and remember just exactly why he was here…what he had lost…what his sanity had forced him to forget.

just scratching the surface...

front...

back...

distant Memory...

The slave felt something well up inside him that brought back the most overwhelming sense of deja vu. Memories of a thousand battles, a hundred thousand corpses, metal plowing through flesh, heads rolling under feet, the ground awash with blood. Anger, pride and the feeling of subsequent victory. Of outsmarting your opponent and then dominating them, snuffing out their lives. A spirit of resourcefulness and positivity that he thought had died, when in fact it had just been buried away whilst it could do no good for him.