Rosalie looked to John as he told her to go by the camp fire, and she nodded, following him there. As she walked she could smell the revolting stench of blood, it smelt like rust..and salt, she hated it. She wondered what had happened and her hand instinctively went to her pocketed knife. Rose instantly thought about the murder... She shook her head, no.. you mustn't think like that, she told herself.
Now at the fire ring Rosalie looked around at the faces of the other slaves, watching the small conversation between them, her own way of easily eavesdropping. Rose noticed another girl in the small group,she looked a few years older than herself but atleast Rose knew now she wasn't the only female. Milo started to fidget around as she sat down on nearby log. Rose patted her pocket to make him stop and stared into the flames. The fire that burned in front of her chased off any coldness that threatened to make her ill, and it was almost soothing to watch. Showing little emotion, Rosalie let her mind wander as she waited to be told why they were brought back to the camp fire.