“Honestly Winter, what did you expect to happen?” The old man sat on the other side of the bars, his soft, wrinkled face in his hands, gripping what was left of his thin gray hair. At this point in his life, it was difficult to ascertain whether he was naturally balding or ripping his hair out. Either way, Winter looked on with disinterest, her cheek resting on her shackled hand.

The girl gave no response to his question, not that he expected one.

The man sighed and began to mutter with frustration, stroking his bushy beard forcefully. “Even with your relentless troublemaking you were worth every cent, but this is too much, even for you!” The girl’s eye twitched, the ridges of her brow creasing downward. The bearded man tapped his boot on the hard stone floor before standing up and storming away, throwing his chair over with a small tantrum before awkwardly picking it back up and stomping off. Winter watched him leave, her parting gift being a satisfied smirk. Her smugness didn’t last, however. The chains rattled as she sank into the chair, looking upward at the cobwebs spanning the ceiling supports.

Where did she go wrong?

It couldn’t have been the village: She was too young, too inexperienced to change what transpired. There was nothing she could’ve done. Last night, however, was her perfect opportunity. And, of course, she blew it with a foolish assumption that rid her of ever trying again.

Of all the times to escape the winery, last night was simultaneously the best and worst; It was the riskiest, but it was supposed to be the easiest. The main reason was that Jax, a guard who was the bane of her existence, wasn’t on perimeter duty. That mutt was the only one consistently able to track her smell and movements. Without that meathead, she should’ve been homeward-bound. The reason he was gone was because some rich guy was scheduled for a meeting with Master and was going to be escorted on foot through the vineyard. Unfortunately, that decadent douchebag brought a whole menagerie of hounds to protect his stuff, all of which pounced on her the second she came remotely close to the only exit, which was of course where the carriage was stationed. So, while her genius escape went south, she was sent north, to jail.

In retrospect, the plan wasn’t very good. She was impatient and lacking in both information and preparation. She should’ve waited for a rainy day so her scent and tracks would wash away, she should’ve taken a weapon of some kind, even a tool would do, and she shouldn’t have allowed unknown variables like a carriage and shady fat guy to taint her escape. But hey! On the bright side, she managed to embarrass Master and greatly inconvenience him, so it wasn’t all bad.

The death sentence was rather unexpected though…

Master had been a huge pushover through the years, and never gave her more than 30 lashes even when she broke his weird golden cup. Typically, punishments were five lashes or you don’t eat for a day for misbehavior and missing your quota. Apparently, that guy was way more important than she assumed if Master was through with her. Vixens, creatures with fox characteristics like her, were rare, expensive servants with a multitude of helpful abilities including their presentability. That was the main reason she got away with so much: Winter cost more to replace than it cost to solve the problems she caused. To be executed rather than simply resold meant she bit off much more than even Master could chew. His reputation and character were the most valuable part of his business: He was an entrepreneur, a kind man, a religious man, and a wine supplier, the latter of which put him in most men’s good graces by default. But for one of his allegedly “loyal workers” to attempt an escape during a meeting cast a bad light, one he wasn’t willing to allow shine upon him.

According to the dominant teachings, the “accursed human beasts” were lesser than men, but still the god’s creations, and treating them too poorly was “sinful.” However, just like a dog, putting them down when they were acting out was understandable, though it might leave a bad taste. This recent folly, in addition to her general disobedience and disrespect, was considered sufficient by Master for an execution. If the fox were to guess, her head would also serve as an apology to the guest whose meeting was rudely interrupted.

In truth, she really hated Master. Was he evil? Not really. Was he a jackass? Not particularly. But he was a slaver. She had begged him for freedom and attempted escapes, but he had not given an inch. If she had to say one last thing to him, after he had tolerated her misbehavior, fed her good food, and gotten her toys and fine clothes, it would be this:

Fuck you.

Winter sighed and slumped even further. Her shackles, despite being the smallest size the prison had for human-sized wrists, still slipped around on her arm. She noticed her bones were peeking through… when did she last eat? She called out to the guards for a meal but heard nothing. The rhythmic “thunk” of boots on stone couldn’t be heard, even by her sensitive ears.

She moved her shoulders around to try and move the brace that held her ears down below her hair. After some time, she managed to nudge it enough for one ear to pop out and expose itself fully, her hearing improving drastically as a result. Since the halls were silent other than the occasional cough or moan, it probably meant someone important was arriving and the guards moved to the front gates. Such a silence had happened when Master visited too.

Her malnourishment came in handy as she was relatively easily able to slip one of the shackles off. A wad of spit later and her other hand came out much more easily than the first. The guards underestimated her while putting the chains on… and fair enough, she had no idea what to do now. There were no windows and the solid bars were spaced closely together. Maybe if there was something to pick the lock? She didn’t know how to do that, but it was a start. Regardless of what she attempted, she was slated for death anyway.

She wasn’t paying attention to what time the guards had left, nor did she know when they’d be coming back. She paced around the room, looking for anything that might be of use. Other than a cobweb or two within reach, there wasn’t really anything. These cells were the temporary ones though, the ones a prisoner stayed in for only a few days at a time, if that, while they were getting ready to be executed or moved somewhere else, so there was bound to be something. A wire? Loose brick? Sharp rock?

Winter laid down and examined what she thought was a loose brick, only to see a hollow cylinder covered in dust barely peeking through the crack. She touched it, certain of it being metal, but it wasn’t rusted or tarnished in any way and it felt unusually smooth despite its superficial taint. She scratched the dirt and dust off of it, revealing a pristine, sleek black tube. At the front opening of this tube was an odd, cube-like lump that continued the hole of the pipe but with large openings in the sides that she couldn’t deduce the purpose of. The winery had many pipes, but she never saw a pipe fixture like this. What would be the point of such an ending? Actually, scratch that! Why was a pipe even here? Only solid brick was present to the right of this cell as far as she knew, what would be the point of moving water through here?

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Curiosity–and some frustration at her lack of understanding–prompted her to lean down and try to yank out the pipe, wondering if there was something she was missing. To her surprise, her petite body was able to easily drag it out of the hidden space, causing her to fall backward onto her bottom as the loose brick it was hidden behind fell away.

It wasn't, in fact, a pipe. It was nothing like a pipe. She didn’t have any idea what she was even looking at. She carefully scratched the dust and dirt off of the object, revealing the whole thing to be partly silver but mostly black. The silver parts had a shining, familiar metallic texture, while the black was a sleek, unfamiliar kind. Whatever smith had made this was truly a master, regardless of its eccentric appearance. The metal was forged in a way that it was all one piece of (probably) steel, as no bolts, nails, or bindings were present other than a single, sturdy strap she presumed was intended to assist in transportation.

Its size was also something to behold, for it was almost as long as she was tall. The original “pipe” she had pulled on was actually a long, slender barrel attached to a larger hexagonal cylinder. Opposite the barrel, the “back” of the object was a rectangle that stuck down and then curved up, forming something like a grip, she assumed. Further toward the middle was something she could tell was very obviously a grip or handle of some kind, though lacking in the leather wraps grips typically had. Just past the top of the handle, a small piece of metal extruded straight down, curved to fit a finger. The handle and metal piece were a bit too large for her but were obviously meant to fit a humanoid hand

Just past the handle, a large rectangle stuck out unnaturally, it was even a slightly darker color than the rest of the object. Dumbfounded, she neglected even trying to guess at the purpose of such an extrusion on an otherwise perfectly curvy and visually appealing item. The last major thing she brought attention to was the only notable feature of what she assumed to be the top. It was a large, horizontal hourglass shape set upon a ridged surface, starkly contrasting the smooth and sleek surfaces present everywhere else. The hourglass shape had differently sized ends, the larger ones toward the assumed front and the smaller ones toward the back. She thought it was a handle at first, but it was way too weird for that to be true with all the strange symbols and small rotating bits. It also only barely allowed her tiny hands to fit through. Since the grips and spots on the object were clearly geared toward a larger frame, her original theory was scrapped.

The shapes and edges were all perfect, even the odd ridges on top were spaced evenly and beautifully. However, there was something inhuman about its perfection. With no blemishes and no errors, she wouldn’t be surprised if this was some divine artifact, fabricated by some greater entity. Granted, why a divine artifact would be hidden in a low-budget temporary jail cell is beyond her.

Still… something was unsettling about it. Winter picked it up, placed it against her ears, and jiggled it. It was much heavier than she thought, though the girl attributed it mostly to its uneven weight distribution. She could hear a faint, barely perceptible metallic jingle as it moved. The sound came from the out-of-place rectangular portion, oddly enough.

Realizing she may have gotten ahead of herself, she perks up and listens out for the guards. Still hearing nothing, she fiddles with the object for a while, learning a few key details:

1. The hourglass shape on top had caps that lifted up to reveal a glass circle with a red cross and illegible symbols scrawled around tick marks on the glass. Looking through it, she saw only blurry colors, so she gave up on that part.

1. That weird rectangle bit actually came off. It surprised her, especially when she learned the jingling she heard was due to some oddly shaped yellow cylinders that tapered into pointed tips. These cylinders were longer than her outstretched hand and stacked up with ten inside the rectangle. She was easily able to pull them out and put them back in the slot with little effort. They were also constantly being pushed upward for some reason. This honestly just confused her more.

1. The silver bit on the side of the hexagon piece could be pulled back, and when done, seemingly push one of the yellow cylinders inside the inner tube.

Soooooooo… She has no idea. Maybe it’s intended to shoot out the yellow things through the barrel? The only thing she hasn’t tried yet is the weird, tiny switch on the side which pointed to some odd symbols, probably something in another language. When she moved the switch around nothing happened other than a bit of resistance and a small click whenever it pointed to a new symbol.

Before she could do anything further, she heard the familiar stomping of boots and the rattling of chain mail. She struggled somewhat but ultimately managed to tuck the thing back into its hiding spot but struggled to slip her chains back on. As the footsteps grew louder, she grabbed the shackles and held them between her thighs, staring down at her lap, pretending like she was just brooding.

Winter’s heart was pounding, but it slowed down when she realized the guards were just doing a once-over to make sure no one tried anything while whatever event outside was occurring. Thank goodness too because she REFUSES to die before she figures this crazy thing out. This is the most fun she’s had… ever, honestly. Such an alien object deserves to be figured out, and she doesn’t have much time left. Winter was already somewhat content with herself before this. Her life wasn’t long, but she stuck it to Master one last time, and wouldn’t have died lying down. Of course, living would be nice, but if this is the last thing she gets to do, she's glad it’s stimulating entertainment instead of some depressing reflection.

Now… she pulls the black item out as the guards pass out of earshot. She turns the device over in her lap, trying different combinations of buttons and switches until finally, something works. When she flicks the lever and pulls the small metal piece on the bottom…

The door blows up.

The blowback from the shot was so strong that the object flung backward from where she was toying with it in her lap and struck her in the gut. The accidental victim, the door, had one hinge on the right side where the lock connected it to the bars. That whole hinge, the empty cell door’s hinge across from hers, and then a large chunk of the stone wall behind that was blasted into pieces with an ear-shattering pop and a reverberating sound like nothing Winter had ever heard before. The door flew open on its three remaining hinges, the bars surrounding the point of impact bent and discolored, with chips of metal flung across the floor.

The young fox stared mouth agape–partly due to pain–at the damage the weapon did. When her first theory about it being a projectile launcher was formed, she assumed it would fire the cylinders like a crossbow or even a ballista. This… surpassed expectations. Her sensitive ears were still ringing with pain when she saw the yellow cylinder eject from the silver slot and clatter onto the bricks. She noticed the cylinder was hollow, and the rounded tip was gone, leaving just the large body. She assumed it was therefore just the finger-sized tip that caused this destruction.

There was screaming from farther down the hall and a multitude of heavy footsteps that began sprinting toward the origination of this sound.

Broken from her stupor, the girl’s single freed ear flattened against her head as she struggled to her feet. Awkwardly slinging the massive weapon across her back, this young girl wearing only rags bolted as fast as she could away from the confused guards pursuing her.