Zoe and Penny trudged along the dirt road. Their feet were bare, as were the rest of their bodies. The hot sun beat down on them, making them sweat; in some ways it was good they were naked. Clothes would have made it hotter. They still weren't used to being naked out in the open, even though they'd had nothing for six weeks now; being in the open air, in public, and especially around others that were wearing clothes made them feel even more naked and vulnerable. The ones that wore clothes were not slaves. They were the slave handlers, the landowners, the skilled tradesmen, the shopkeepers. They were the slave owners. Zoe looked behind her to see how many slaves were in their line. She couldn't count them but it had to be 50, at least. She wondered what kind of place would have that many slaves. What would they be needed for? "Excuse me, sir?" Penny asked a slave handler that was standing by the side, watching the naked women pass. "Is there a way we can ta