Fuzzy memories from Sabaja to Arsurus!
Darkness. A cramped, dark room, smelling sharply of chemicals. It’s almost too small for a child to curl up in, with the jars and the broom and all the items scattered about. The door is locked, he knows. He can’t see it from in here, but there’s a chain on the other side that no one can break. He’s too dizzy to try and push on the door anymore, too thirsty, too tired.
A young woman in old, ratty, patched clothes opens a door, light streaming in behind her. Her right arm is crooked in the forearm, the bend swollen and bumpy. She holds a bowl of water in her left hand.
“Mother’s out to market. Feralis went with her. Here, drink this, quickly. I’ll stand by the door so you can get light until she returns.”
He grabs the bowl, carelessly splashing water on himself. He’s so thirsty. He missed the light. The young woman has bruises on her head and around her neck. He should care about that, but he’s so, so thirsty.
