For my beloved wabbit...

Throughout that abominable world of Gor, Man ruled with an iron fist. Man was the Master, The Rulers, The Enslavers. All women accepted it. Most women were contented with it. Some women enjoyed it. However, far from the 'civilized' world was a tribe known as the Katani or Panther Tribe in our tongue. They were a band of barbaric heathen outcasts or at least that was how the Gorean overlords viewed them in the relentless pursuit to eradicate or enslave them.

They were the Warrior Women, fearless and brutal in combat, merciful in victory. The Panthers lived free of the shackles and whims of man. A man who ventured into there realm had little zest for life or liberty. For once he was in the clutches of a Panther his life was forfeit, for they reversed Gorean law. Woman reigned and man slaved or perished under the whip or sword.

They were ruled by Shala, the wisest and noblest Lady to have ever graced this world. She was as beautiful in thought and deed as she was in face and form. She carried herself with pride and dignity and when she spoke it was only with words of wisdom.

It was a nomadic life. Their enemies left them no time to cultivate the land or rear beasts for meat. They lived by The Hunt. A monthly affair, the Hunt was a dangerous time for The Panthers, taking them away from the relative safety of their camps. At risk from the Gorian slavers they kept ever alert. None were safer than those who hunted with Shala. With Her, most Gorean predators became the prey, slain or enslaved to serve their new Mistresses. One day though even Her luck ran dry.

An ambush was set for her and her warriors. Outnumbered but not outmatched, she fought like The Panther after which they bore their name. She stayed behind fighting the many warriors, desperately trying to let her own warrior's escape into the forest. With so many upon her she had no chance, so when once her staff was gone, broken into by a Gorean warrior's sword, she fought with her own hands till a noose was tied about her neck and she was dragged down to her knees.

They took her through the towns as their prize. She was paraded in a wagon, bound to the cart, her hands up in the air, tied. The people threw rocks and pebbles and insulted her... not only the free men but the slaves as well. For it is known in Gorean World that just because you were a slave does not mean you could not be proud. And to the slave woman, she was mocking them.

Through this all this she kept her head held high and didn't say a word to no one. In the town center she was tied to a post and whipped senseless to reveal the location of her sisters camp. Again not a word passed her lips, not a cry of pain or shout of fright although the agony was beyond all understanding.

They put her at night in the cages with the male slaves thinking this would degrade her. The male slaves did not hurt or touch her they just grumbled. She was strong of will and her name legendary so they knew better. They just insulted and mocked her.

So she knelt not saying a word, ignoring everyone in cool silence. One slave male though did not taunt her. He looked into her eyes fearing yet yearning to be close to this woman whose strength and dignity drew him to her in a way no master or mistress had ever done before. He edged closer a bit afraid, but knelt by her his face touching the ground "Please Mistress" he said, "may I touch you?" She then slowly turned towards him, and looked at him he shivered at the look she gave. Her eyes and expression were blank, no emotion at all. She reached out her hand to him. He kissed her hand with small kisses in gratitude. Her lips curved in a small smile.

She knew that even in her slave form that he knew she would always be the stronger. She allowed him to sleep near her that night and other nights to keep warm. He would awake sometimes to see her staring at him oddly. She would always hold him though in her arms stroking his hair, inhaling his scent as if she wanted it for memory. Her captivity did not last long. Shala’s wits went far beyond those of her captors and she escaped. It is not important how she managed it. Maybe we shall chronicle her triumphant return one day, but for now let it be that she, with her cunning and guile outwitted the supposedly superior men of Gor. Her slave friend and follower was sad at Her parting but at the same time pleased for her. He knew she didn't belong there.

Weeks went by and one day out in the field gathering food with other slaves he was thrown down getting beaten badly for not gathering fast enough. By this time he felt life was ebbing from him. He felt no pride in being a slave with no one worthy to serve and bore no hope. He hoped the man would kill him and end the worthless life that he led. Suddenly a commotion interrupted the beating... they were being raided. The men started clashing and slaves running wildly about. The slave just kneeled there head bowed down hoping someone would kill him. He felt a shadow over him and looked up. There stood the panther girl, Shala, surrounded by her warriors. She reached down and tenderly touched his cheek. The other warriors helped him to his feet.

"I have come for you" she said simply. Seconds later the men from the camp came running to see what the commotion was about. You could look out to the field but see no trace of the Panther Girl and her warriors. Laying there was dead bodies of the slain men and the frightened slaves huddled in a corner. They were all gone. the slaves were accounted for, except for the beaten slave who once kneeled ready to die.