It was a glorious day when our ancestors tore off their slave collars and picked up their spears. Thanks to their sacrifice, we now get to choose to work low-paying jobs, live in damp houses, and tithe a third to the Master of Coin. Reikha, Free Reikha!

  – Luis Harper, travelling bard and entertainer

  Another evening, another performance. Titus sighed inwardly as his cage was rolled out onto the stage. A black tarp hid him from the audience's eyes for now, but soon enough they would be staring, pointing, perhaps even screaming, or choking on their snacks. He'd seen it all before. "Look at the horrible wolf man," what a joke.

  Titus' body rocked sideways as the cart with the cage came to a stop. He slowly unfolded his body and stood up straight, getting into position for his reveal. Well, at least he didn't have to pretend to like it. In fact, the angrier he was the better.

  The beast tamer was already deep in his theatrics. Titus didn't envy him either, though—dealing with dangerous beasts all day. Well, them and the not so dangerous kind. Right on cue the tarp was pulled off the cage, revealing Titus. He growled loudly at the audience, making sure to give everyone a good view of the beast—showing off his sharp teeth, his messed-up face, and his claws.

  The typical reactions played out in front of him. Of course they would react as expected. It was all staged, all planned out—their emotional journeys throughout the performances, the highs, the lows—it was all part of Poppy's expertly crafted plan—to create an unforgettable experience and make people talk. And Titus was one of the biggest spectacles of the evening—"the wolf man".

  Then, the whip cracked against his cage, and Titus had to pretend to behave. "Ugh. Don't miss again, you bumbling idiot," Titus thought at the beast tamer. "Last time my face hurt for a week."

  The dance began, as it always did. Titus had to comply, rebel, retreat, surprise, and obediently calm down. A perfect dance of push and pull, where the audience could never guess who held power and whether Titus was a danger to them or not.

  When Titus eventually retreated to his cage, having been "tamed", he nearly rolled his eyes at the relieved sighs from some of the audience members. On his final glare into the crowd, his gaze met the eyes of an Impish woman in the crowd.

  Ah, the "Royal Guard" he'd heard about. Some important person, who was travelling with them temporarily. She didn't look impressed. Well, seeing the same show over and over again would probably do that to you. It wasn't his fault that she didn't exactly fit their typical audience. There was a reason they moved from town to town constantly.

  With finality, the tarp was lowered onto his cage and Titus punched the bars once. This wasn't part of the show, but it was fine. He was supposed to be a dangerous beast after all.

  He clicked his tongue. Why was he so damn angry? His fist hit the floor. Damned circus.

  Titus was watching the acrobats fly through the tent. He wasn't supposed to be here, of course. But what were they going to do—whip him? He took a fistful of the stale leftover corn they had lying around at one of the stalls and pushed further into the shadows of the back-stage corridor. He wasn't worried about being found. But why risk it?

  He thought about the visitor again. How nice it must be—working for the nobility, living in cosy castles, knowing you're always going to be cared for. He spat to the side. This was all of them—the people who would come to a show like this. They didn't have to fight to survive, they didn't have to feel hunger, they had shelter from the weather.

  Reaching for another serving of corn, he found his bin already empty. He huffed and tossed the container into a corner. It bounced and clattered into the centre of the path instead. The sound caught the attention of one of the acrobats, who promptly missed their timing.

  Titus grimaced as the acrobat tumbled into the safety net. She didn't seem to be able to get up on her own. Within moments, Poppy and two other clowns rolled in to salvage the performance, as the injured acrobat was being lifted off-stage. The cold glare Poppy aimed at the performer spoke volumes. Titus gulped audibly. Yeah, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to be out where someone might spot him.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cage, Titus looked up at the stars. "Here's to another year," he mumbled to himself. It should have been his birthday. Probably. If it wasn't, then this day was as good as any to "celebrate". He picked up the little toy firework he'd stolen from another stall and held it out in front of himself. A feeble existence only meant to serve the purpose of entertaining him for a few moments before fading away and losing its purpose.

  Titus scowled at the irony of it all. He placed the toy into a satchel. Maybe he wouldn't use it after all. That's what people would expect. Keeping it felt like less of a betrayal.

  As he looked up from his satchel, he saw her—blonde hair, pointy ears, tail, it was that visitor, the "Royal Guard" or whatever. He was supposed to always be in role, even back stage. He couldn't let an audience member see him as anything other than a wild beast. So he kicked the satchel under the hay he used as a bedding and snarled at the woman.

  Trista approached his cage and folded her arms. "You're acting even out here?"

  She looked around, as if to see if there was anyone else around he may be performing for, ignoring his feral swipes at her face. But of course there was no one around. It was dark, empty—not a living soul to be found. A nearby lantern gave off barely enough light for them to even see each other—their shadows strange and elongated.

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  Swatting away his paw, she sighed, and said, "stop messing around. Why are you letting them treat you like a beast? Surely, it can't be nice to sleep on a…" Her eyes darted to the hay covering the cage's floor. "…bed like that."

  What would she know about it? She was basically royalty, she could get whatever she wanted.

  "You remind me of someone I know," Trista continued, unperturbed by his growls, "she used to stay cooped up in her room, reading books all the time. She had no friends because the people she met didn't understand her, and so she dismissed people as unreasonable." Shaking her head wistfully, she sighed and raised one foot to the iron bars of Titus' cage. "She made sure she wouldn't find anyone who would understand her because she assumed no one did. It was a cage of her own making."

  Trista kicked lightly against the iron bar, the vibration shaking Titus out of his trance. He hadn't realized, he'd been staring for a while. He had to get his act together. He inched forward out of habit. If he knew anything, it was how to intimidate people.

  "There are cages that hold us, and we have to live with them…" Trista said and watched the unlocked cage door respond to her kick by shifting in its hinges. "…and some of them we build to protect ourselves. What kind am I looking at?"

  Titus glared at the Impish woman, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I have food, I have shelter, I have employment," he spat out, his voice cracking on the last syllables. "And furthermore, they'd kill me if I left", he thought, "especially Poppy". A shudder passed through his veins and he rolled his shoulders to mask it.

  "If that's all it is, then it's like slavery, huh?" Trista stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. "Food, shelter, employment. Tranlinian slaves had that. I don't have to remind you, why slavery leaves us Reikhans with a bitter taste in our mouths. You're Reikhan, too, right?"

  "It's not slavery." Titus huffed, looking away.

  "No? Well, that's a relief." Trista smiled faintly, nodding to herself. "So then, you can just leave, yes?"

  Now it was Titus' turn to pound on the iron bar. "And where'd I go? Look at me!" Wasn't it obvious that a monster like him would be hunted where ever he went? What kind of work could he possibly hope for? What kind of friends, family?

  A long moment passed, during which both remained silent. Trista merely returning his stare bravely. A drop of sweat rolled down Titus' cheek and dropped onto the hay beneath his feet. The fibres greedily absorbed the moisture as they always did.

  "I'm looking," she said eventually.

  Titus groaned in exasperation, lifting his arms and gesticulating wildly. "No one would hire me for any other job! I'm a freak! A monster!"

  When Titus looked over at Trista again, he saw her unwavering gaze. For a moment she didn't seem like a noble who was so far detached from real life that she couldn't even understand his predicament. She looked more like someone who saw him and hadn't dismissed him yet. It almost made him angrier than the alternative.

  "I'm heading to Freyland."

  The random sentence had taken Titus aback. So? Go then! Who cares?

  "You know what they say about Freyan people, right?" Trista winked at Titus. "They're some of the most understanding and open-minded people. They even have something called 'outlier towns'. Towns that aren't governed by anyone, they're truly free people."

  Titus grabbed hold of the bars on the door to steady himself. She was implying something, but he didn't want to think about it. It was too scary to think about. It meant confronting Poppy, to try and leave the circus. The click of the door latch falling into position echoed through the empty yard.

  Trista narrowed her eyes and turned to leave. "I'll leave soon. If you want to join me, I'll take you across the border at least." She waved over her shoulder as she walked off, not waiting for a reply. The door beside him creaked as it swayed in the wind. Someone would have to fix the hinges.

  Titus' legs were stiff as boards as he made his way to Poppy's cart the next morning. Breathing. He had to focus on breathing. What was she going to do? Kill him for asking a question? He was valuable to them, wasn't that why Finn had stopped her last time? So, maybe if he threatened to kill himself, she'd have to comply?

  It felt like a stupid idea, but he didn't want to run away. He'd never be able to sleep well again, looking over his shoulder at all times. He knew Poppy was reasonable. Scary, but reasonable. Reasonable people listen to propositions.

  Nodding to himself, Titus swallowed his fear as he tapped against the door of her cart. No reply. Damn it all, she wasn't out was she? Not at this time. Not when it had taken everything he had just to come here. He knocked again and called out, his voice meeker and more quiet than intended. "Poppy? Are you there?"

  After waiting for another minute, he sighed. But just as he was about to leave, he heard movement inside. So she was there? Was she ignoring him? Laughing at him? Perhaps she was never going to meet with him, watching to see what he would do and enjoying his torment. He scowled at the polished wooden door and its teasing handle.

  With one swift motion he pushed down on the handle and stepped up the step into her cart. He paused, when he saw her. "Ah!" The skin of his face reddened to a deeper shade than his fur or hair. "So this is how I die," he thought to himself, as he looked at the bare back of the most dangerous woman he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.

  Poppy glanced up at him over her shoulder, letting go of the shirt she had just removed. Her eyes were clouded and cold, like he was nothing to her. Like he was already dead.

  "I don't think I invited you in, boy," Poppy said coldly, her eyes sharp like daggers.

  Titus heard himself stammer incoherently in response but the content didn't matter. Nothing he could say would change the situation.

  "Since you're here, you may as well make yourself useful." Poppy pointed at a dress on the bed next to her. "Why don't you help me with that, hm?"

  There was no way to refuse. What would she do if he did? He couldn't even begin to imagine.

  With a shivering hand and a clumsy paw, he picked up the dress and shuffled over to her slowly—careful not to make a single mistake. As he neared her, one of her tails batted him in the face, playfully.

  "Come now, I haven't got all day. I thought you were going to be helpful." Poppy's eyes glistened playfully. Was she enjoying this? Did his terror amuse her?

  Pursing his lip, Titus pushed forward and helped Poppy put on the dress, keeping his eyes firmly level with her head.

  Poppy sighed dejectedly. "You're not even stealing a glance. What a boring boy." Her tail tickled his face once more. "And here I thought, I was irresistible."

  After tying the last knot on her dress, Titus looked away focusing instead on a red flower, popping its head out of a vase. "I came here for a reason."

  "You don't say?" Poppy grins, as she starts packing various items into a bag.

  "I want to leave the circus."

  "Ah."

  Titus squirmed and dared to look at her again, but Poppy acted like he wasn't even there. He breathed in deeply, squaring his shoulders. He had practiced for this. He needed to make sure, she let him go. "The amount of shows I've done should have paid for the food I stole! You don't own me anymore."

  In his mind he added, "And I have no idea, what I overheard that night, so it doesn't matter, right?"

  Poppy glanced at him and smiled, her lashes hiding the glinting orbs beneath. Was it a threat or was her smile genuine? It was hard to tell.

  He couldn't back down now. This was his one chance and he would take it. "I'm going to leave for Freyland. With…" Shit. What was her name? "…the Royal Guard woman." It sounded pathetic. He didn't even know her name. What business did he even have, going with her? He scratched his head, cheeks burning.

  Nodding, Poppy picked up her bag and placed it over her shoulder. "What a fun idea." She beamed at him, seemingly delighted.

  "You'll let me?" Titus' shoulders relaxed marginally. Did it work?

  "Of course!" Poppy replied, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "It's going to be a fun trip."

  A sense of unease washed over him. He glanced at her bag, her boots, her face. "I-I suppose, it might be enjoyable…" He stammered. "But… What are you implying?"

  "Oh!" Poppy exclaimed with mock surprise, as if she'd just remembered the punch line to her favourite joke. "I'm coming with, silly."