Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Smells strange.” The new one tilts his head. “Smells female, too.”
Oh no. Oh no no no.
“Yes, but look at the eyes. There’s something wrong with them.” My jailer lifts a hand.
I flinch, taking a step back.
“Hold her,” says the new one. “Let me take a look at her.”
I retreat again, only to be snagged by the neck of my yellow tunic and dragged forward. The jailer grabs me by the throat and tilts my head back, and I whimper in fright. They both lean in, staring at my eyes, and I pant in fear.
“Her eyes are dead,” says the second one.
“Is it the sickness? I wondered, and that is why I brought her here, instead.” The jailer looks concerned. “Should I just kill her?”
“You might already be infected if it’s the sickness,” the second one says. “And now we both must remain apart from the others to ensure it does not spread.”
“By the ash,” the jailer mutters. “It had better not be the sickness or I’ll kill her and wear her skin like a coat.” Then they release me.
I collapse to the ground, rubbing my throat and trying not to sob. I skitter backward as best as I can, as both of them glare down at me as if I’m the cause of all their problems.
“What do we do with her?” the jailer asks. “I want to destroy her, but I need to understand what she is.”
“Are there more of them?” inquires the second. “If so, it might be useful to keep this one. We should ask the chief.”
The jailer grunts acknowledgment. “You are right. I will send word.”
He puts his hand to his waist, and I notice that he’s wearing a belt with several pouches on it over a yellow loincloth made out of the same thin material I’m wearing. He flattens his hand, and I barely have time to see the small pile of yellow dust on his palm before he blows it in my face.
I cough, waving a hand in the air, and my eyes grow heavy. My limbs, too. Drugged, then. “You guys suck,” I mutter as I slump over, my head smacking against the rock with a loud sound.
Then…nothing but dreams.
I wake up later, my limbs aching and cold. My toes and fingers are so icy that they’re numb, and I shove my hands under my armpits to warm them. There’s not much I can do for my toes, though, so I try to cross my legs in a way that will somehow press warm skin against cold feet. It’s just…the rest of me is not all that warm, either. I feel cold everywhere. When my teeth begin to chatter at the same time my stomach growls, I suspect I’m going to die down here.
The thought makes me want to cry, but I’m so tired and terrified that no tears come. My mouth is dry and there’s water on the rocks, at least. I spend a few minutes licking the moisture from the trickling spring and trying not to think about how clean or unclean this cave might be since I just put my tongue all over it.
Footsteps approach again and I retreat to the back of the cave again, shivering in the shadows. What now?
The thick, four-limbed jailer opens the door to my cell, and to my surprise, drops a body in. He quickly shuts the door again, glaring in my direction, but I don’t even try to escape. I don’t have anywhere to go, my foot wrappings are gone, and he looks like he could tear me like a piece of tissue. Maybe it’s not very brave of me, but I’m trying real hard just to keep my shit together at the moment. One crisis at a time.
The new crisis?
A demon has just been dumped into the cell with me.
I stare in shock at the sleeping creature. He’s got the same horns as the other guy, but his skin is a sky blue. He wears a furry kilt around his hips, but that’s it. His feet are bare, and even from my hiding spot I can tell they’re not human feet. They’re missing a few toes and the three there are spread wide.
He’s got two arms, though, and his face is surprisingly attractive. His features are big but pleasant, and his long black hair cascades down his back. He looks much nicer than the other terrifying monster, which means it’s probably a trap. A pretty face can hide an ugly heart. Just look at Anakin Skywalker or Jarreth the Goblin King.
I stare at the blue guy, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do now. Is he in here because my captor expects him to kill me? Or is he imprisoned, too?
The newcomer groans, stirring on the floor, and I hold my breath, shrinking back. My teeth are still chattering, so I bite down on my knuckle to silence them. I don’t want to make a sound until I know if he’s friend or foe.