Nathan fell, dead, to the ground; next Robert lost his life against the vicious slave traders while Jack watched. He wanted to help them, and his screams filled the air as, with a vicious slice, his last friend fell dead. Jack stopped struggling against his bonds leaned back against the rough tree bark, not daring to believe what he just saw. But it was real, as real as the pain that overwhelmed his spirit.

The full moon illuminated the clearing, casting white light on the red liquid that stained the blood so near Jack's feet, and he wished for his own end. It was, in fact, his own fault that his friends were killed. He was the leader of the pitiful attack; he was the one guilty of his friend's blood.

He watched his friend's chests, looking for any breath, any sign of life, though he knew it to be gone. Then they came towards him.

"Get it over with." He whimpered, only loud enough for him himself to hear, though truthfully he didn't matter if it came painlessly or not, he only wished for it to come; for him to be free of this cruel world.

But instead of being struck by blade he was struck by fists. Again and again the fists pounded bruises into Jack's tender skin, and each jerking punch sent him either pounding against the tree or smacking against the hard dirt. His arms were numb and his body lay there as if lifeless, as Jack wished it to be.

"That boy is a strong one," One man stated, "best we keep him alive, as he will fetch a fine price, a very fine price."

Jack groaned inwardly, for he could not force the sound through his lips. He wanted to be finished, but instead he was banished to a life of slavery and misery once again.

Few tears rolled down Jack's face, although he wept and all night for his friends and the fact that he couldn't save them. They're free now He reminded himself, tucking his face into his hands, free.