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I had been sold in Victoria, from the wharf market, and later, following being ferried across the Vosk and transported in one of four slave wagons south, ankles chained, with five others, to a central bar in the wagon bed, had been again sold, in Torcadino, as a work slave to a mill. From that bondage I had been again sold, to me inexplicably, the first of several sales that saw me vended, usually after only a few weeks, sometimes a few days, out of one city or town, or even village, to another. I did not understand this. Had this something to do with me? Was I somehow different? If so, how, in what way? Once, when I was laboring in a field, sickle in hand, with others, harvesting sa-tarna, a great shadow, as of a cloud, raced across the golden grain. I looked up. I heard girls scream, and I saw a sight that I would never forget, what had to be my first tarn, one of the enormous saddlebirds of Gor. Masters with us, peasants, who would bind the sheaves we cut and brought to them, looked up, shading their eyes. - (Plunder of Gor)