"Escape"
Tera couldn't sleep. She lay curled on the cold floor of Crom Hold's kitchen, her face buried in the coarse, musky fur of one of the spit-dogs. Her back throbbed from the beating the Steward had given her. "You'll have no food for the next three days," he had said afterward, his icy words stinging even worse than the lash. "No food…" echoed through her head. Her hollow stomach growled in protest. When had she last eaten?
If only she could escape and find a new life. But Tera knew it was hopeless. She'd never get far with her limp.