Siena followed after Winger as they traced through the market place, keeping her eyes down, not wanting to see the leering eyes looking over her body as they shouted suggestions, and faked bids for her that were less than the price of a meal from a street vendor. The girl climbed up the platform obediently, her limbs shaking as she ascended onto the platform, hearing Winger hovering around her. For a moment she considered simply letting go, falling to the ground, but she knew a fall from this height was as lightly to simply injure her, and a battered, broken slave girl was exactly the kind of creature who<em>was</em>passed around camp until she died.<br/><br/>She eventually ascended the stage, and stood still as she was bound in place, her body stretched by the chains, leaving her ample chest and taut stomach exposed. She gave Winger a weak, pained glance as he told her what the waterskin was for, closing her eyes in humiliation. She told herself she wouldn't drink from that. She would be sold. She would be auctioned off like a horse, naked in front of the eyes of hundreds, but she wouldn't do that.<br/><br/>Looking out into the crowd, she wondered who would buy her. She was pretty, beautiful, but not as much as some of the other girls - girls who belonged in harems of royalty. Bengal had enjoyed musing about the kind of person who would buy her - a brothel owner perhaps, often the types that could buy the expensive girls, but not the<em>most</em>valuable. Girls who would fetch a fine price for a long time.