Masakoâs captor led her down the twisting streets of Seranto, still holding the leash tied around her wrists. The large round stones that paved the road had long been smoothed flat from use, and were not terribly rough on her bare feet. The man browsed the windows of the busy shops as he listened to her story. âNo nothing wrong with it I suppose. But you should have known better. From what I seen, Etanans are bigger slavers than Vaskaanians by far. Not that I care much about where a person comes from.â He stopped short in front of a narrow building nestled between a run-down wool stapler and a large plumassier. âThis will do.â He walked inside; Masako had no real choice but to follow along.<br/><br/>The walls were lined with shoes and boots of various styles. Most were made from leather or suede, but there were some soft woollen ones as well. The large man chose a pair of dark brown, soft leather boots and walked out. A few doors down they entered a small clothier and he picked up a sleeveless light-grey tunic. Once they were on the street again, he stopped and turned to look at Masako. âI donât mind people starring at you, but those rags you got on wonât do much good if you plan to walk all the way back to Etana.â He held out the new clothes in his spare hand, the other still holding the leash. âNow Iâm going to untie you so that you can put these on, but if you try to run youâll regret it.â<br/><br/>He set the clothes on the ground. The low-heeled boots would easy go half way up Masakoâs thighs, and the tunic wouldnât go much past the top of them. It would have hung lower, but given her proportions, the light material wouldnât quite hang the way it was intended to. The man moved behind her and started to unknot the cord.