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eyes; they had his incinerator
intenseness, but it wasn't anger that I saw. No doubt he saw my
defiance in my eyes as he stared at me. He broke off, looking around
at the rest of the dragons who were packing up, and ready to begin the
days travel. He spoke quietly, to make sure the others would not
overhear.
"I cannot blame you, slave, for your actions. I would have done
the same in your position. Still, you must be punished, so that you
will learn who your master is."
With that, Syrin tossed a chain over a tree branch, hauled my
arms above my head, and locked the cuffs about my forearms to the
chain so that only half my weight rested on the downward-straining
tips of my hooves. The whip he uncoiled was more like some heavy vine
made of leather, and he took the time and care to caress my cheek with
it. Syrin demonstrated to me what a Guildmaster of the Slavers can
do with such a weapon.
He beat my back and legs, leaving dark red stripes that turned
black on my white hide. The whip was too heavy to crack, it d
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