Apart from being beaten, captured, and scheduled for torture and interrogation. He had a swelling bruise on his face, and his lip had been split and was crusted with dry blood. She could barely see Fidelias out of the corner of her eye, but he was there, hanging in a cage of iron bars by straps around his shoulders and outstretched arms, leaving his feet dangling a good ten inches off of the floor. “You awake yet?” croaked a voice from behind her. Light poured into it through a gap in the flap that served as a door, leaving the tent’s interior described in terms of dimness, shadow, and dark. The commander’s tent in the camp, she guessed. After a few moments, she was able to see. She opened her eyes, and bits of dirt fell into them, so that she had to blink quickly. Her heart started to thud hard in her chest, and fear made her buried limbs feel cold. She struggled to gather her wits through a pounding headache, piecing together fragments of memories and perceptions until with a dizzying rush of clarity she remembered where she was, and what had happened to her. Her face felt thick, heavy, and after a moment, she realized that her entire head had been liberally smeared with mud. Loose dirt had been piled over her arms, and into her hair. Amara woke, buried to her armpits in the earth.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |