Run away (female option).

As you contemplate your options panic seizes you. You flee with little thought other than getting away. It's only after you've gone some distance from the house that the reality of your situation begins to sink in. You are a woman alone, in a world that offers little kindness or opportunity to women. On the streets you are likely to wind up dead or worse, **** and bloodied and left for dead, but somehow even those options seem preferable over a life of guaranteed slavery.

You calm yourself, and begin to walk slowly toward the market. You have not attracted any attention so far, and if you behave normally you will at least buy yourself time to consider your options. You cannot return home, that much is certain, but perhaps you might be able to convince someone to help you. You have never been short on admirers, but anyone who aided you would be taking a great risk. Still the idea is worth consideration.

The first man to come to mind is Raif, a handsome blacksmith who was widowed two winters ago. He has always been kind to you, and he might take pity on you, but he's poor and would be put to **** if he is caught helping you. The second man that comes to mind is a money lender named Cabrizio. He is a vile, greedy man, but he does have some money and the sort of connections that could help you evade your master.

At that moment a messenger boy jostles past you, nearly knocking you to the ground on his way to deliver some apparently urgent message, and a third, altogether different idea occurs to you. If you were to cut off all of your hair and steal a set of clothing you might be able to pass as a boy, and seek work in the city on your own. You would have far more options as a male orphan, than as a female run away ****. The idea seems a little like madness, and it would not guarantee your safety or survival, but the idea does give you hope for true freedom, freedom that does not depend upon the indulgences of men.

None of these options seem entirely promising, and you might be better off accepting your fate as a ****. It's not too late to go back to your master's house.