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chapter 84

Author: Uriel Kings
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Amora

Quinton called this place a “cage,”and that’s exactly what it feels like. I’m like a trapped animal, and I hate it.

The small jail building at one edge of the village houses three cells. I’m in the one farthest away from the entry door, my view of the doorway partially obscured by the thick metal bars that run from floor to the ceiling around my cramped cell.

I sit on a cot barely long enough for me to stretch out full-length. The only other object in my cell is a rusted metal bucket stained by ungodly fluids, and the two cells beside mine are empty, their tiny beds made up as if they’re shitty hotel rooms.

The emptiness of the place doesn’t bode well for my future. Quinton may take prisoners often enough that he needs a jail in his pack lands, but it appears he doesn’t keep them long.

At least the scratchy gray wool blanket from the cot is big enough to encompass my entire body. It chases away some of the cold, but for the most part, this stone cottage is as frigid as the world
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