A tapping sound wrenched Brolin awake. He coughed until his chest hurt—a dry sound escaping his cracked lips. He rubbed his throat with his dirty hands and then he began to cry. His sobs became uncontrollable, a fit of breathing and grunting and whimpering. He sat for a few minutes until his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
He felt around for his sword but it was gone. So was his overcoat, a hand-me-down passed to him by his brother Crelk. His patterned shoes were also torn apart, laying on the floor next to him. Idle and abused like Brolin.
It was a terror he wouldn't even wish upon his enemies in pretend-war. This was a fate far worse than death. Even that led to somewhere a bit brighter and less frightening. He wished for a sudden rapture, or a portal, or some kind of divine intervention on behalf of the Maker and his holy army. He wanted to be swept up in fire and lightning and whatever else existed. As long as it carried him away from…a cage. Brolin tread over to the end of a cell—its iron bars stopped him from venturing further.
"Hello...?" he croaked, his voice fading.
The silence screamed back at him. Like a beast in the wild, pierced by an arrow in the leg. Brolin adjusted himself by lowering his body into a seated position. He sat and stared. His eyes taking in a mixture of blacks, blues and dust. It meant nothing to him. Just more boredom. A whole lot of nothing.
"Why am I in here?" he asked, to no one in particular.
He had hoped that the girl would be there. Maybe even the man, as much as he never wanted to see him again. At this point, someone's presence would have been better than nothing. Brolin saw no reason for any of this; why he was locked up, why the man attacked him…why the girl just shrugged it all off as if it was nothing. Above all, Brolin felt hurt. 'Betrayed' was probably the word he was searching for—but it was buried so deep that even if he did look, he would lose himself. The truth was difficult.
He attempted to hear what was going on elsewhere in the cave, except his ears caught nothing but the faint dripping of water to his left, outside of the cage. It was useless. And rather than focus on his current situation which seemed incredibly out of his control—he decided to lay down and sleep. It wasn't a perfect idea.
But at least he would still be able to dream.
