This was a morning unlike any of the others that Anya had seen this summer, this was a market morning. Anya was just like any of the other merchant's daughters, except for one thing- she didn't know what was to happen at today's market. Anya's family had tried to protect her. Yes, Anya didn't know what the other girls knew, the other girls knew that they would not be leaving in the same way that they had arrived. The other girls knew that they would be leaving in the locked cart of a stranger.

Bartholomew's came to the market in a stately carriage drawn by four glistening horses. Another carriage, empty with bars over the windows rolled along behind him, this carriage was for what he would buy at today's market. Bartholomew's second carriage stank of fear, despair and human suffering, you could hear crying in the wood. He only came to these 'quaint little peasant markets' once a year, to trade old useless junk and to buy new... objects.

All the presented girls aged thirteen to fifteen were pushed toward the auction block, the confused Anya was with them. Some of the girls were crying, though Anya didn't know why. The confused young girl gasped as the auctioneer started calling out names and ages, she finally realized what was going on. Yes, all was for sale today, even human flesh.

Bartholomew's looked hungrily up at the stage, a truly sick man, at home, on an inarguably awful day.

"Twenty."Said the cold voice of Bartholomew's when it came time for Anya's turn onstage.

"Thirty." Countered another steely voice.

"Fifty." It seemed as if Bartholomew's would try to get the beautiful, innocent Anya at any price.

Anya, her worst fears now confirmed, suddenly realized that the second wagon, the one sounding of despair and sounding of sorrow, was here, an half a dozen other's way 'home'.