Bridgette's eyes scanned the hall for signs of the guard as her hands fumbled with the rope behind her back. The burly man strode past the cell without more than a glance.
Her horse whisper penetrated the stony silence. "Quick! I got my hands untied." The boy twisted so that his hands were within her reach.
"What good will this do? The door is locked, and the guards pass on their rounds every five minutes."
"Just trust me and keep quiet."
"Why? You're not in charge of me. You're just my sister."
"Do you want out?"
"Of course!"
"Then you'll have to trust me. Unless, that is, you have a better idea."
Chase frowned. "No."
"Then keep quiet, and do what I say."
He shook the ropes from his wrists and crossed his arms indignantly, his lower lip in a childish pout. Bridgette ignored him, and began untying her ankles. "Now. When the guard passes we know we have about five minutes before he comes back. I want you to help me get the bars out of the window. It won't be easy, but we can do it. When it's been almost five minutes get down and put the ropes back like you're still tied."
He looked at her skeptically. "How will we get out the window?"
"You'll have to help me up, when I'm out I help you. We'll have to move fast but I know we can do it."
He nodded. "Do they think we're totally helpless?"
"They've underestimated us for sure. But they will never make the same mistake. It's very important that we never give them a chance to take us again. Next time it will cost us our lives."
They quieted as the man passed again. Bridgette listened for the familiar grinding sound the door made as he moved to the next complex.
Chase sprang to his feet, and Bridgette follow slowly. Standing up made her head spin, and her hand went instinctively to the gash on her cheek. It came away sticky with blood, and she hastily wiped it off. "Ok. The metal is rusted at the ends, and we need to work it away till it's short enough to come out." She stood awkwardly, her short leg stretching to touch the ground.
"What do I use? I can't do that with my hands!"
She reached into her cloak pocket, producing a small knife. "This will have to do, it's the only thing they didn't take." He took it gratefully, and began the tedious work, while she worked the rod with her hands.
By nightfall they had removed three of the four bars, and Chase worked doggedly while Bridgette rested her bleeding hands.
She closed her eyes, reliving the moment of their arrest. It was night, their black cloaks blending with the dark shadows. It was against the law to be out after 9 hundred, and meeting with other 'rebels' made this a double offence. Bridgette peered around the corner. No one was there. She beckoned to Chase, and they stepped into the deserted ally. Suddenly she was blinded by the many lights shining in her face. She attempted to run, but was stopped by a fierce blow across the cheek that sent her sprawling. There was a great deal of noise, and she felt herself being pulled to her feet. There was no use resisting. They were greatly out numbered, and what could an eleven-year-old girl do against armed soldiers?
The last bar fell from the window, bringing her back to the present. All they had to do was reach the border, and they would be legally free. And this time, they would not loose that freedom. They could not.