Change And Expectation [Ron and Eniah]

    The light of Ignacio's sun stretched from high in the sky, shining down on his fiery pelt and reflecting off the greasy sheen that was
was slowly being rubbed down on him. Under closed lips, his teeth gently gnawed on the smooth metal coating of the bit in his mouth, it being the only
thing keeping him occupied while he waited anxiously. The colt had kept his head low, the stoic expression facading the tension arising in his heart while
The stallion on the left continued to rub him clean with a towel. He was going on auction today, and at a much lower price than before. Perhaps Michaela,
the horse who currently had him in their possession caught on that the boy wasn't selling all that well on account of the scars that decorated his face.
They stood at the right, frowning some determined frown down at the little slave being cleaned up, their misty grey eyes knotted with frustration.

    "This better work. I honestly don't get why our buyers have been so stubborn; so he's got some scars, still a fine worker, he is." Michaela snorted, lifting
his snout toward the stallion working on the left. "You got him all cleaned up?"

    "Should be all done," the chestnut horse grunted back, lifting his towel away from the colt. Eniah felt a tug on the rein that had been hooked to his bridle,
and he was forced to lift up his head. There he was face to face with his owner, whose grey eyes, still fixed with determination, squinted assertively.

    "Alright, this is it. If all goes well this'll be the last time I see you comin' back into my stalls. Now you do as I told you, kid! Straighten out your neck, look
proud! Stand tall! If you're gonna sell well you gotta look like you're damn ready to work hard!"

    The colt's eyes narrowed, but he nodded, reluctantly.

    "Good. Let's go, boy."

    Out from the dusty corridors of the alleyway he was lead, keeping up to the pace of his slaver to avoid feeling the tug at the rein leading his head. In the
afternoon sun, the oils that had been rubbed onto his coat made him practically gleam, and it drew the attention of other horses--employees of Michaela's and
his fellow slaves alike--as Eniah was lead along. He made eye contact with none, sights set on the gleaming brick pathways and his rosy hooves trodding over
them.

    The slave markets weren't particularly bustling today, but Michaela still had high hopes. Eniah was still too scrawny to be sold off to the government as a
Labor Slave, and Michaela would rather not hang onto him if it meant having to sell him at an even lower price. The stallion had plenty of slaves to sell but
he wanted money. Eniah had already analyzed that he wasn't the most generous of horses out there.

    Through and through, the colt was lead until he was at last brought up to a stage, which lined the left street at a particularly decent height. His slaver had
been leasing it alongside other slave traders, who had already lined up their own serviles to present to the public in hopes of earning some money. It was a
friendly competition, so to speak--Michaela often tried to get higher earnings than his partners.

    "Lovely! Alright! Folks, folks, come gather round, gather round. Mares and Stallions! Feast your eyes, because we've got a lovely selection of serviles to
select from this afternoon!" A horse called from a podium on one side of the stage. That was the function of this oddly placed stage; that the great height and
his projected voice might drag in more attention from around the market. The first two horses were auctioned off without a hitch. It was expected, one looked
rather heavily built--a potential pit fighter--and the other appeared to be in their teenage years, but was developed enough to have some muscle.

    "Next we've got this fine looking colt," The stallion's words indicated that it was Eniah's turn. The gnawing on his bit stopped, and his head swung high; showing
off the elongated neck, and the muscles slowly but surely developing in and around his chest. His legs were posed with elegance, struggling to display the strength
that he possessed from his thoroughbred bloodline.

    "Tilt your head up!" He heard Michaela whisper.

    And Eniah raised up his head a little more, trying to keep his blue eyes fixated on the crowd. The pose was mighty uncomfortable.

    "He's a strong and experienced little lad!" The stallion at the podium cried. He then announced the starting bid, again, lower than before. "Come on now, do I have
any bids? Any bids at all?"

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