About

Dust hangs in the afternoon heat as a merchant's cart sits heavy on the roadside, iron bars glinting dull in the sun. Inside, a girl. Wrists chained, shoulders curled inward, eyes dark with something older than her years. Bruises map her skin like a history she never chose. The merchant is moving fast - she's already been sold to someone waiting down the road. Every second she stays in that cage is a second closer to something worse. You stop. You don't know why yet. But she's watching you, and it doesn't look like hope.