There was no need for guards down here. She was at least two stories underground, much too far to dig. If she could pry out a 50 pound stone from the mortared wall, using her bare hands, dig at least 20 feet, and if the sack of rock hard bread that counted as food held up that long, and if she didn’t end up digging into the moat… This wasn’t helping. She futilely rubbed her arms, the cold feeling sinking in deeper. She’d been here for what, days? It was at least days, since she’d slept more than once since they’d hauled her down here. She sighed, tears stinging her eyes.
What now? A light? She stared. She must be dreaming or hallucinating, but no, there it is again, the bars of the cell casting shadows across her arm. She froze as a figure appeared, carrying a torch. He turned and yelled out.
“It’s her! We’ve found her!”
Four more figures filed in. Who were they? Rescuers? Guards? Executioners? As soon as they’d stopped, she heard a cry behind them.
“There they are! Get them!”
She’d soon find out.