A Gentle Snow

It was dark here, where they kept her. It was musty; the kind of dank smell that came from a place where body fluids were left on the stone floors to decay. Like old, festering wounds and cold darkness.

She couldn't remember when these shackles had clamped around her hands and neck and legs. Was it her blood or someone elses? No, those wounds were her own, she realised. How long had she been here?

"Who did you work for?"

She never responded. Lack of response brought pain, pain that tore her through her body like electricity. Her screams were lost within the room. Say nothing.

"Why did you come back?"

Say nothing. She must protect the old man. She didn't come all this way for him to die. He was safe. She knew this. She screamed as they pried away toenails.

"Who are you? Who sent you?"

Say nothing. She didn't come all this way to die. She stayed silent as her legs shook and blood wept freely from her cuticles as did tears from her dark eyes. More screams that were finally broken by her pleading words.

In the darkness, she lay there. Days passed; she forgot how many for certain. She could hear them laugh over her broken body when they finished their questions and started again. They thought she would die here. They were very wrong.

She didn't know how long she had been gone as she stumbled away; a soft crimson pattering of footprints upon the snow was all she forced herself to run. She was broken, near dead - but she was strong. She always was.

She watched Tel Vinrae upon the horizon of the rising sun as the boat brought her closer to the City of Lies.

All of them, she thought to herself, All of them will die.