It was cold. My skin felt clammy, damp. It wasn’t enough to clean the grime from my skin and under my nails, but just enough to brink a cold chill to my bones. If I held my breath for more than a moment, I swore I could see it in the darkness of the cavern.

The cavern floor was unfathomably – unforgivingly – hard. The ground was uneven and formed itself into spikes, dull and sharp alike, to drive into my sides.

There were moments I thought about fighting back, but what would be the point? I couldn’t go home. Even in this misery, at least I had my mind; not that it mattered here.

I wasn’t sure if it was day or night. What I knew was it had been an unfortunate amount of time since I had last eaten. There was a fragment, a flicker, of light. The torches were lit and the liquid flame had been ignited.

My mind concocted one of a few different scenarios. One – the guards were here to torment me as they did every day, speaking their strange tongue but only just enough to frustrate me. Two – the guards were here to deliver the first meal I would’ve had in my barely functioning memory. The Third – it was the new person who they were training; the Factotum. I knew enough to understand that word.

There was a tremendous clang that belonged to the door the guards slipped in and out of like the wily weasels they were. I forced myself up onto my elbow and looked up as the light carried itself through the room like a ghostly mist. Even now, my bones creaked and threatened to complain loudly. Thankfully, they didn’t as I heard those two confounded guards shouting whatever they pleased.

My eyes turned to the ledge. Relief washed over me as I saw the barrels; however, I saw something else. There it was. That’s why there was glee in their voices today. There, standing near the ledge holding perfectly still was a woman. She had light brown eyes like bark from a light sun lit tree. Her hair was curled into tight spirals, and it would be longer if not for each and every loop adorning her head.

She was slender of frame, but it wasn’t by choice. It was clear she was giving of herself to others more than herself. Her shoulders were hunched in a humble form, but it was more of learned service – a learned status. We locked eyes.

I often kept myself in check, but this was far too much. Tormenting the next Factotum was despicable. It happened far too often and though I knew they couldn’t understand me I could not bite my tongue. I watched as she flocked to the door in obvious terror. An involuntary growl rose up in my throat as I pushed myself up; not for her, but for the guards.

“How dare you torment yet another! She’s terrified!” Her shriek was not half as loud to me as the guards’ laughter to me. The woman collapsed to her knees. I wanted to help. Reassure her. I knew there was nothing I could do for her, but I could not relent. My words flowed out of me as I pushed myself up and leaned forward.

“Look at her! Don’t you know how scared she must…” I gagged and gasped as the chain around my neck as the levers pulled taut around my throat. Our eyes met again, this time lingering much longer than before. I hated it. Such fear. Such a primal fear. From what? Me? Though I knew and understood my intentions, there was no way that I could do such a thing and no way I could tell her either.

I simply had to watch as those two came in and shuffled her away. Once they had gone, the slack returned to the chains that were heavy and dark around my neck and around my wrists. I knew I would see her again and knew I had to find some way to apologize. It felt impossible, but that feeling was only half as strong as the growl in my gut.

I needed to eat. Then, and only then, could I set my mind to work on formulating a decent apology.