For the first time in several days, Wayne felt the oddest sense of excitement, excitement that was brought on in the escaping of what he called a hell hole. He had been thinking about As over the previous three days, which also bought about hope, the hope that by moving, he could be closer to rediscovering his friend, the owl, again. Though it had only been a week, Wayne’s thoughts of the person who had done so much for them when they needed it weighed on his conscious, and ultimately, he very much missed him.

  A rackety wagon arrived at the camp’s entrance driven by two unkempt porcupines. Their needles looked almost as if they were drooping, and their eyes were sunken into their heads. The Warden sauntered up to them.

  “We ‘eard abou’ a slave?” One of them asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got one. I’ve got many.” The Warden stared at them.

  “Well, ‘ren’t ya gon’na give ‘em to us?”

  The Warden gave a low chuckle. “I’ll get the metal on board, then I’ll give ‘em over.” The two porcupines both replied with a shrug.

  “Kevin, ya got’ta go.” They now stood looking up at Wayne, performing the bare minimum amount of work, barely chipping away at stone.

  “Yes, sir.” Wayne stopped instantly. He wouldn’t miss this place, surely.

  Waltzing to the wagon, the passenger porcupine exited and told Wayne to turn around.

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  “Paws behind your back.” They ordered.

  “Why?” Genuine confusion donned Wayne’s question. He felt the rope tighten.

  “For our safety.” Their reply was concerted, as if they had done this a thousand times before. “Wait here ‘til we get ‘verything in the cart.” Minutes later, Wayne’s suspicions were proven right as they told him he would need to ride in the back of the wagon where the heavy bags of metal nuggets and shards lay. Thankfully, the sacks used were so thick, Wayne didn’t feel so much as a prick, only heavy nudging as the wagon had begun to move, rocking it back and forth.

  Behind bars, As stared at the ceiling. His head turned to face a particular spot, where a particular stone met with another. A pinpoint window to the outside showed a gloomy grey sky, yet on rare occasions a glint of daylight would let itself in, and always, the wind whistled when it pushed through. A moderate crack ran along the mortar; many other cracks ran to other walls. He had tried to push or pull the joining stone out many times, but to no avail. The thick, impenetrable ragstone with its rugged yet smoothed faces, had one job: Keep outside noises out, and the noises of the prisoners in. Inanition surrounded As, others’ paws moving stupidly, reaching out from the confines of their cells, only to get a minuscule sense of not being bound and almost constricted by them, feeling as though the their boxes were becoming smaller by the day.

  As had been given stale bread and water earlier that day, with his next helping coming... he wasn’t sure when. The only way he could tell time was by looking at the pinhole, watching it become darker and darker or brighter and more bright when the sun rose. In the night, he focused on the whistling, not because it would keep him awake, but because he would remember flying. The feeling of flying, feeling the wind past his arms, and through the plumas and fringes of his feathers. He tried to fly away from the guard but he grabbed his leg and-

  He could have gotten away. He could have not ended up feeling malnourished. He could he outside in the hot, dry sun, and not inside these cold, damp walls. He could have stayed at the cabin and taken the risk instead of ensuring the risk of himself and others—others he cared about.

  The cracks became sharper as the as the pinhole slowly blended into the wall, until it was no longer visible. His eyes shifted to the various crevices in the chamber walls, watching the innards of the stones be lit up with the orange light of the torch, and the fire that was in his heart could not be drenched, for the tears from his eyes couldn’t reach it.

  The gate from far beyond the dungeon opened, crashing, and some shuffling and bickering turned into a crescendo. Two cells down, As would have a new guest.

  And his voice sounded so familiar.