From the ashes she rises like a phoenix

Lost in the destroyed city destiny wanders

alone except for the Larl chained to her slender ankle

she silently cries for her home

The chime of slave bells,

a gift from a beloved Mistress,

is the only sound she hears

A ko-lar around her neck,

steel with crushed stones

the colors of the five high classes,

A brand of the three moons of Gor

forever etched into her creamy thigh

she searches for a place to rest…

tired and lonely she enters a place of warmth

hoping her search is over….

The ko-lar she once wore with pride,

removed not out of shame but out of respect,

wrapped in the gold silks that once covered her body

she places them to rest

the Larl grown now hunts alone

it is time to start fresh…