Sheer exhaustion eventually tore down Rook's resolve to stay vigilant.

A faint shuffling startled him awake so abruptly that he instinctively jolted and keeled over. He hit the floor with a grunt. The impact cleared the last of the sleep from his head.

Still underground.

Still chained.

Drawing in a slow breath, Rook bit back his disappointment. He didn't know why some foolish part of him had expected otherwise. As though waking up might somehow undo everything.

Patience.

Even if all he could do for now was observe, something would eventually happen. Surely this Corruption hadn't kidnapped people just to leave them locked away forever.

Movement had Rook’s gaze snap to the entryway.

A shaggy, bearded man—an actual human, Rook was almost certain—had cautiously placed one boot inside the chamber as though testing the water. When nothing happened, he tiptoed inside and crouched, carefully placing a clay plate piled with mouldy-green content on it in the middle of the room.

He looked North African. Moroccan, maybe? Algerian? Similar to Dalia. Although he stood a good foot shorter than her. Not Fanny-short, mind you. Rook was becoming increasingly convinced the dwarf Corruption had mentioned had to be Fanny.

The man remained so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Rook watching.

“Water?” Rook croaked.

The man jumped a good two feet into the air. One hand flew to his chest, bunching the rough, sackcloth-like shirt he wore. His jaw clenched as he looked towards Rook, but even then, he adamantly kept his gaze down.

“Y-you’ll live,” he stuttered in an accent Rook couldn’t place.

Using the ratty toe of his boot, he nudged the plate a little closer.

Grabbing hold of his chains, Rook pulled himself upright. His headache from hell immediately punished the effort with renewed vigor. Just in case he’d forgotten its existence.

“S-stay down!” the man yelped.

In his panicked scramble backwards, he accidentally kicked the plate away. Chunks of the generously portioned mush skidded across the floor.

Does he think I'm going to break these chains and hurt him apart or something?

Rook almost scoffed, stopping himself before it aggravated either his throat or his pounding head.

The man stared miserably at the displaced plate. He twitched as though he wanted to move it back, but froze. He glanced another fearful look at Rook. Then, he looked longingly down the corridor.

human stared at the displaced plate in dismay. He twitched, as if about to move it back, but froze. He gave another fearful glance at Rook, before looking longingly over his shoulder, down the passage.

Rubbing at his sore throat, Rook forced his voice to stay gentle.

“I… need…. water. Please.”

“Y-you only get water at night,” the man blurted hastily.

Rook bristled. Couldn't the guy see he was trying to be nice? At least show a little sympathy.

He bit back the sharp retort forming on his tongue. Because skittish or not, this man might be his chance at help. He couldn’t afford to scare him away.

Through clenched teeth, Rook asked, “So, its morning?”

The man’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around them.

“I didn’t say that!”

Tilting his head, Rook raised one eyebrow. His best really? look. He didn’t think he looked unfriendly. Dalia would have laughed.

But the man whimpered and bolted.

“What the fuck?” Rook muttered.

Ignoring his sore throat, he called after the fleeing man, even throwing in an apology. Though for what, he had idea. Whatever image the poor guy had of him, it was badly warped.

A hoof clopped sharply around the corner.

Rook’s teeth clicked as he swiftly shut his mouth. He’d forgotten about the minotaur.

His gaze drifted to the trail of mush leading to the overturned plate. His nose wrinkled. He was hungry, but not that hungry. The thought of putting mystery slop into his mouth made his throat tighten.

Still, better to keep it.

If he ended up imprisoned here for a while, food might become valuable. Maybe he could even bribe the human with it. If the man returned. The guy looked like he hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. He might trade some proper information for food.

Due to the chain’s restriction, Rook was forced to lay flat on his stomach, stretching one leg towards the plate. Even then, the toe of his sock barely reached the edge.

Almost there…

His foot twitched. The plate slid farther away.

Rolling onto his back, Rook let out a low growl of defeat.

Clop, clop, clop.

Rook shot upright. By the time the minotaur stepped inside, he’d already plastered himself against the far well.

Her beady eyes settled on the plate and she snorted. A fleck of mucus landed on Rook’s knee, but he didn’t dare wipe it away. The minotaur bent, picked up the plate, and sniffed its contents.

Rook had seen enough films to know she was either going to eat it herself, spit in it, throw it at him, or—

“Rabbit food,” she rumbled. She set the plate down within his reach. “But filling.”

Narrowing his eyes, Rook cautiously sniffed it himself. It was probably mashed vegetables?

When he made no further moves, the minotaur insisted, “Fill for day.”

After a brief hesitation, Rook nodded at the plate. “Is it drugged?”

He bit back a groan. Why’d he ask that? Now she knew he suspected something was off. And wouldn’t tell him anyway. She worked for Corruption. For Thruin.

Even if the food wasn't drugged, her helpfulness had to be hiding some ulterior motive. Maybe this was about gaining his trust. Making him willingly compliant.

The possibilities piled up until his headache became unbearable. Rook cringed, pressing a hand to his temple.

The minotaur's nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath.

“You fear? Fear not. Not bad. You be assessed.”

She stared at him for several long seconds. It became more socially awkward than terrifying. If she was playing good cop in this nightmare, maybe he could pry out a little information?

“Assessed?” he said slowly. “Like, seeing how long I can stay shackled before I crack? Because I already have, so you might as well wrap up the assessment.”

She blinked once. Then, without a word, she turned to leave.

Does not compute.

Rook rolled his eyes. He dragged a hand down his face, swallowing against his dry throat. Dropping his theatrics, he called, “Wait! When… when will I get out of here?”

The minotaur kept walking.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

She didn’t stop, but she did let out a heavy huff.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Assessment,” she called back, her voice now echoing from around the corner.

Rook frowned.

The assessment at least implied he wouldn't be imprisoned forever, but it hardly sounded reassuring. Might Dalia be going through this too? He shouted a few more questions, but the minotaur had gone mute at her post.

Pushing thoughts of the assessment aside, Rook returned to his original plan and tucked the untouched food into a shallow recess in the wall. One problem dealt with. Next came water.

Aside from being painfully thirsty, the fact he hadn't needed to pee since arriving struck him as a glaring sign of dehydration. Who knew how long it would be before this promised supper? Or whether the frightened man had even been telling the truth.

Searching the floor, Rook found the smoothest pebble he could. After polishing it against his shirt—trying not to think too hard about where it had been—he slipped it into his mouth, hoping the old wives' tale about stimulating saliva actually worked.

Hours crawled by. A few soldiers passed the junction, but after the third group Rook stopped checking, deciding conserving energy was more worthwhile.

Fear waned into impatience. Hunger hounded him like Henry chasing his latest conspiracy theory. The pebble eased the dryness in his throat, but did nothing for his thirst.

Cursing Corruption, Rook gathered bits of gravel—along with what looked disturbingly like a couple of bone fragments—and began mapping what he remembered of the route Thruin had dragged him through. He carefully recreated the passages and rooms, filling the gaps with educated guesses, especially where the other kidnapped teenagers might be held.

The task absorbed him so completely that he missed the approaching footsteps.

“Give,” the minotaur grunted, shoving the shaggy human into Rook's chamber.

Rook immediately swept a hand through his little map, disguising it as a stretch.

The man started to back up, but the minotaur's broad frame blocked his exit. Her chest raised as she took in a deep disapproving breath. Shoulders hunching, the human shuffled forward and placed a plate and a cup just within Rook's reach.

Barely.

As Rook stood, the man whimpered and hurried to the opposite side of the chamber.

The minotaur shook her head, revealing a jagged tooth in what Rook realized was a sneer.

Rook’s earlier plan of bribing or befriending the man was tossed out the window. His empty stomach left him with little patience for the man’s skittishness, and the idea now just sounded exhausting. Maybe after eating…

He looked down at the plate and his stomach lurched. A furry, uncooked carcass stared back at him, tiny feet poised to the side!

“A rat?”

“Meat,” the minotaur replied.

“I’m not eating a rat.”

Spotting the plate of mush tucked against the wall, she shook her head.

“Must eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

The minotaur stepped closer, towering over him. Rook flinched, bracing for a blow, but she instead picked up the mush plate, then the rat, and turned towards the trembling human.

“Watch,” she ordered sternly. “I return.”

The human nodded, trembling. As soon as she was gone, he scurried back to stand just outside the entrance.

Rook reached for the cup and sniffed it. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he took a cautious sip, holding the liquid there for a moment. The water tasted strongly of minerals, but otherwise seemed clean enough. If it was drugged, so be it. He wasn’t about to die of dehydration.

He swallowed.

Between slow, savoured sips, Rook decided to give the man one last chance.

“Thank you for the water.”

The human said nothing.

“So…” Rook continued. “How many of you are there? Do you have a name? Have you seen a girl named Dalia.”

Silence. The man stared eagerly down the passage as distant footsteps echoed through the tunnel. They quickly faded away.

“Look,” Rook said, settling cross-legged on the floor in an effort to appear as non-threatening as possible. “When is this assessment happening? I'm getting pretty tired of waiting.”

“Who told you?” the human blurted.

Rook regarded him evenly. As if he was about to reveal that the minotaur had been more talkative than he was.

“Your reaction just did.”

The man’s eyes bulged. His lips puckered indignantly. For a ridiculous moment, he reminded Rook of a goldfish.

Rook broke into a chuckle. A soft, distant laughter answered it. Rook fell silent, tilting his head as he strained to hear it more clearly. But it just as quickly vanished. Only the human’s quick shallow breathing remained.

Another chuckle threatened to escape. Rook ran a hand over his face. “I’m losing my—”

Head lifting, mouth partially open, he drew in a deep breath. Something tangy was filling the air! Something… delicious!

The minotaur returned carrying an enormous slab of—

“Don’t get too close!” the human cried, when she entered within Rook’s reach. “He’ll eat you! He did what those predators do! Tasting the air!”

The minotaur raised one shaggy eyebrow. “Want minotaur?” she asked Rook.

“Thanks, but you don't really appeal to my appetite,” Rook replied. The whole situation had become too absurd not to lean into it. “Too much muscle, too much bone. And I'd be flossing fur out of my teeth for weeks.”

Silence settled over the chamber. Rook was just fearing she’d taken him too seriously when she gave a snort.

“Humans meaty,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eye. “When not little sticks.”

The man’s knees were shaking so badly they looked ready to give out. A small part of Rook felt bad, but a much larger part was still irritated with the man. Besides, it was becoming increasingly obvious he had more to gain by getting along with the minotaur.

Rook gave her a grin.

She held up a thick slab of what looked like steak. Delicious, were it not raw. He’d been raised to never eat undercooked meat. Besides… Where had it come from?

His stomach growled.

Rook took another sniff. Heavenly! But— His breath caught. What if she hadn’t been messing with the human? What if she’d been completely serious!

“Tell me that’s not human…”