At length, Asphaella’s new owners arrived. Her revulsion was instant. The creatures were hideous; roughly the shape of humans, but with the heads and wings of gray filthy pigeons or vultures, their feet scaly talons caked in mud and worse, their forms barely disguised under layers of tattered, matted shapeless fabric. They bobbed their horrible heads during the exchange, then managed to reveal and transfer a bag heavy with clinking metal. Her current owners accepted the offering and slunk back into the shadows of the warehouse.
Her gate swung open. She was helpless, hopeless, and submitted without question to being chained hand and foot. They threw a hood over her head, and she felt herself lifted onto some kind of litter. She reclined there, part broken victim and part precious cargo, until she felt herself lifted again. This time when she stood, the floor rumbled with the purring of some unseen machine. Then with a lurch it moved, and she realized that she had been loaded into some type of vehicle.
After what seemed like hours, if not days, the transport stopped, and a loud whirring of chains and a symphony of creaks and clicks announced the opening of a large door. She was walked down a long ramp; as she descended her ears were filled slowly with the cacaphony of a factory running at full steam.
Another eternity, and the hood was pulled from her eyes. Without time to react, a taloned claw grasped her wrist and snapped a chain to it. The creature made a slithery, rude sound and then capered away, leaving her alone.
As her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings, she found herself indeed in some sort of factory. She was tethered by a stout chain to a complicated looking machine festooned with more dials and levers than she could hope to comprehend.
Asphaella gazed at the monstrous machine in wonder for a few moments, then a sudden wave exhaustion brought her to her knees. Suddenly, sleep seemed the only option. She slumped, carelessly, to the factory floor, and slept.