#grant summers

(Man, Abraham really misses his own bed, his plush comforter and soft sheets….)

“Alright, kid.” Grant flinches a little when Abraham speaks up, despite the giant’s attempts to keep his voice lowered. “I’m gonna lie down, so you need to move into a corner. I recommend the back one so you can stay out of sight.”

“ What? Why? Why are you lying down?” Grant narrows his eyes, like he’s suspicious of the giant’s (nonexistent) malicious intentions.

“Um… so I can sleep. You should get some too. We can try and figure things out in the morning.” He starts to shift, but pauses when the boy doesn’t move.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I need to find a way out of here.”

Oh, here they go. Abraham rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m not telling you what to do. I’m telling you what I’m gonna do, and telling you how to avoid me lying on top of you. Move.” He continues to shift himself down, waving a hand to encourage the boy to scoot over. Once he’s out of the way, the giant settles on his side, back to the cell door.

Grant presses his back into the corner, trying to stay as far away from Abraham’s head as possible, even if it’s only a couple of feet. With how little space there is in the cell, he’s more or less stuck in the corner. He’d have to crawl over the giant to get anywhere––not that there’s really anywhere to go.

Abraham frowns. “Ah shit. Do you, uh, need to use the bathroom? You’d better go now, while I’m still willing to move.” He berates himself silently for not asking before lying down.

“There’s . . . a bathroom?”The boy’s brow furrows. He didn’t see one when he was first tossed in. Then again, he was a bit too busy focusing on the giant.

“Nope. But there’s a hole in the floor behind me.”  Abraham pushes an arm under himself, preparing to sit up again, but the boy quickly shakes his head. He snorts. “Like you’ve never pissed outside before––or anywhere that isn’t a bathroom.”  But if the boy doesn’t have to go, he doesn’t have to go. Abraham settles down again, uncomfortable, but accustomed to the position.

It doesn’t take too long for the giant to doze off. Exhaustion from the fight and the stress weigh him down. Grant, on the other hand, is wide awake. He stays backed into the corner, facing Abraham. It’s dark, but he can still make out the streaks and splotches of blood caking his skin. He mentioned this was a gladiator pit, so Grant can only wonder with some disgust and unease how much of that blood is Abraham’s. Cuts and bruises are scattered across his skin, sure, but none of them look serious enough to bleed that much. This guy is a killer.

The blood quickly becomes a secondary concern, however. From deep in the giant’s core comes a low, angry groan. His stomach is rumbling again. It makes Grant’s heart quicken, and quicken more when Abraham curls in on himself further.

Grant needs to get out of here. He needs to escape before the giant monster gladiator man gets hungry enough to go back on his promise. He doesn’t trust him to keep it.

Sleep for Grant comes intermittently. He sits in his corner, arms crossed over his chest, but every time Abraham sighs or shifts in his sleep, or every time his stomach growls, Grant flinches awake. The night stretches on, seemingly endless.

At some point, he does manage to fall into a slightly deeper sleep. It’s interrupted all too soon, though, by the harsh rattling and clanking of heavy, receding chains. Grant squeaks and Abraham grunts, both of them disoriented and confused. The chains slither into the holes in the wall, pulling the giant’s shackled wrists with them. He doesn’t adjust himself in time, though, and gets twisted, facing the wall with his right arm being pulled to the left and his left arm being pulled to the right. He’s hoisted to his knees nevertheless, and growls out in pain. Strained shoulder joints groan their protest.

“Fuck––” Abraham growls and tries to move his legs, but he stops himself quickly and looks about the cell. “ Still here, kid? I need to––ow––I gotta fix this before my shoulders dislocate.”  He glances over to see Grant in the same corner he’d retreated into last night. The boy stares up at him with owlish eyes, unblinking. “ Yeah. Stay right there while I––” not bothering to finish the sentence, Abraham scrambles for purchase under his feet and pushes himself to stand as much as the chains and low ceilings will let him. He tries in vain to twist himself and have his back to the wall as he’s supposed to, but there’s no slack or give in the chains. Any pulling just yanks at his strained joints more. The giant gives a frustrated huff after a few attempts.

Grant . . . snickers. It’s a ridiculous scene, seeing the massive man twisted up and leaning his head back in defeat. He looks almost goofy. Abraham shoots him a look, brows furrowed.

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

“Kinda, yeah.” The boy snickers again, fuller this time. Abraham feels indignation rise in his chest. He opens his mouth to retort, but a realization hits him before he can say it.

“You should probably hide.”The chains only pull him up like this when the doors are going to open. He turns his head in the other direction and listens. In the distance, footsteps clack against the hallway floors.

Grant’s fleeting mirth is quick to vanish. He glances around the cell, looking for somewhere to hide. “ Wh–what? Where?”

“I don’t know, kid. Hide in the piss hole.”

“Hunh? Hell no––I’m not hiding in the piss hole!” He shoots a glare up at the giant, who attempts to shrug in response. Grant looks around again, eyes settling on the square of fabric. He’s not sure if it’s supposed to be a rug or a blanket; it doesn’t seem to serve either purpose too well. Right now, though, it’s his only other option for shelter. He grips it and drags it to his corner, pulling it over himself.

Abraham opens his mouth to admonish the boy, but he quickly shuts it just before two guards step into view outside of his cell. He tries to study them over his shoulder. Though it’s difficult to see them, he’s pretty sure that they’re the same two guards that tossed Grant in here yesterday.

“Oi, big’un,” one of them says, “where’s the brat?”

Incredible. Abraham suppresses his amazement at just how truly dumb these two numbskulls are. He clears his throat. “Um. Where do you think? You said he was my dinner.”

The two guards exchange looks, then burst out laughing.

“Holy shit. He actually––”

“No way! I had a lot of money ridin’ on him pussyin’ out!”

Their awful banter leaves the giant feeling queasy, and the boy even moreso. Grant feels himself start to tremble under the blanket.

“Wait––” the laughing stops abruptly. Abraham tries to look back at the two, one brow raised. “There’s no blood. No new blood.”

Fuck. He hadn’t considered that. Neither of them had. “Uh…” Abraham starts, his mind rapidly trying to come up with an excuse. “I… there wasn’t any. He was small enough, and I was hungry enough to just… swallow him. Whole.” The very thought of such a barbaric action makes him want to gag. The guards, however, find even more sick humor in his lie. They hoot and howl and guffaw for a solid minute before they can find their composure again.

“God damn, big boy,” one of the guards said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I knew you were a beast, but I didn’t think ya had that kind a’ brutality in ya. Hopefully you’ll bring that same energy to your next match.”

Match? Already? “But––I just had a match yesterday––” Abraham tries to protest.

“And you’re having another one now,” the other guard sneers. “You should be fine. Had a big meal to perk you up.”

Perfectly off cue, another loud groan rumbles from Abraham’s stomach. He feels his blood run cold, thinking that their ruse is up, but the guards just laugh some more.

“Oh! Seems like we ought to find you two little whelps tonight!”

Neither he nor Grant can tell if they’re joking. One kid is enough to deal with; two more would be Abraham’s nightmare. (As if this isn’t already a nightmare.)

In the walls, the hiss and groan of moving mechanical parts start up. Abraham tries again to shift his position. “Wait––at least let me fix myself before you send me up! C’mon, I––”

“No dice, big’un,” the first guard tuts. “Should’a been ready when the chains started reelin’.”

“But I––” his argument is cut short as his cell starts to shift. The floor outside of Abraham’s cell, and the guards along with it, sink out of view, leaving Abraham––and Grant––in darkness.

“Shit,” the giant curses. “Motherf––ugh. Okay. Kid?”

From under the blanket, Grant pokes his head out. He looks to the solid wall now just behind the gate. “What’s happening? Are we––are we moving?”

“Yeah. The cells in this ring are set in elevator-like shafts, and each shaft leads up into the fighting pit. That’s… where we’re going.” He slumps as much as he can in his chains, forehead to the wall. How is he going to handle this? If the kid is seen out in the pit, he’ll be killed for sure. Abraham isn’t sure he’d be able to protect him while also fending off whatever opponent the ringmasters are throwing at him. “Stay in the cell. It’s safer for you in here than it is out there. It’ll sink down once I’m out.”

Grant looks thoughtful for a moment, then ducks back under the blanket and goes still. Abraham takes that as compliance, and braces himself for the fight to come.

They always start out the same. The cell enters the ring. The door opens. His chains go slack and release him. He has to run out and grab whatever weaponry and shielding the ringmasters have provided him for that match, and he has to fight like hell against his opponent. Normally, Abraham is very good on the start, quick to get himself situated. But he’s never started while tangled before. This ought to be interesting.

“If I don’t make it back, kid,” he says, “you find a way out and tell the world what’s happening here, hunh?”

Yeah, whatever. Grant rolls his eyes and remains silent. If he can manage to get out, his only goal is to get as far away from this hellhole as possible, and never speak of it again.

Bright light filters in as the cell reaches the end of its journey, above ground in the pit. The air smells of dirt and metal and blood. In the early days, the stench made the giant gag. No more. Overhead, an announcer yells indistinctly through a loudspeaker, prattling on about the match about to commence. Abraham closes his eyes and takes a breath, his muscles going tense.

The countdown starts.

He can do this.

The doors slide open. His restraints fall away. Abraham falls awkwardly, only just managing to turn around to catch the massive cat-like creature that leaps for him. Its weight slams into him, pushing him against the back corner of his cell, right where the kid hides.

Grant!

He can’t turn and look. He has to fight! The cat sinks its teeth into the meaty part of his shoulder, and slashes its claws at his chest. A furious roar rises in his throat. Adrenaline kicks in; Abraham grabs the beast by the throat and rips it off of him, then kicks it in the gut hard enough to get it out of the cell. No time to recover. No time to check on Grant. He bursts from the cell, already slick with blood, and spots the weapons rack.

***

Grant’s screams go unheard in the commotion. He can’t see what’s happening, but he can hear something big attacking Abraham. The howls of the beast and the giant both shake him to his core. The cell itself rattles as the two of them wrestle.

He needs to get out of here.

Terrified, but desperate, Grant throws the blanket off of himself and keeps in the corner, waiting for an opportunity to bolt. Just as Abraham pushes back and kicks at the cat-thing, Grant takes his chance. He runs. He nearly slips in a fresh pool of blood, but he runs, slips out of the cell, and––

And…

And the pit is huge! Just behind him, Abraham and the cat come tumbling out into the light. The giant, unaware of Grant’s escape, makes a beeline for a rack of swords, spears, and other archaic weapons.

They really were gladiators.

Grant tears his eyes away from the weapons and dashes to hide behind a pillar, out of sight. If he can just lay low, then maybe he can figure out how to slip out while everyone is distracted by the fight.

The cat screams again. A heavy weight crashes into Grant’s pillar. He swears he can hear the stone crack.

He should have stayed in the damn cell! Just as he thinks to run back to it, he sees it disappear back underground. Shit!

The pillar shakes again. Gallons and gallons of blood and entrails fall to the dirt with a sickening squelch. The cat’s cries die abruptly. Now only Abraham’s heavy breathing rings in Grant’s ears.

“Bring on the next challenge!” the announcer yells. Grant lifts his head, eyes wide, to see three more cells lift from the ground. Each of them holds a reptilian beast. They’re all much smaller than the cat. On their own, they probably wouldn’t give a giant much trouble, but there are three here. All three doors open simultaneously, releasing the beasts. Grant slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from squealing out, and scoots around his pillar to try and keep out of sight. On the other side of the pillar, the cat lies dead and eviscerated on the ground. It’s a grizzly, horrifying sight, but he has more pressing things to worry about right now.

And, unfortunately for the boy, one of the reptile beasts does notice him. The other two head right for Abraham, but the middle one slowly stalks towards the cat carcass. Its forked tongue flicks out, lashing at the air, tasting it.

Grant, oblivious to his hunter, creeps around the cat’s head. Its face is frozen forever in a snarl, but its eyes are vacant, lifeless. Even still, it makes him shudder. The damn thing has teeth as long as his arm. He skirts its open mouth, choking back bile as blood splashes onto his shoes, and rounds its chin. The fur is thicker here, better to hide in. Maybe if he hid well enough, he could escape while the clean up crew dragged the carcass away…

Suddenly, the cat jolts. Grant can’t stop his shriek before it leaves his mouth. He bolts out of his cover, afraid that the cat might not actually be dead. Briefly he glances towards Abraham and the two beasts––

Wait. Two? Where’s the third?

The boy spins around on his heel. From behind the still-very-dead cat, a scaly head rises up. Its eyes scan without much success, but its tongue catches onto Grant’s scent. It hops up onto the cat’s shoulders, head drifting back and forth, tongue flicking in and out. Grant's blood ran cold. The giant was busy with the other two reptiles; Grant was on his own with this one.

“Easy, girl…”

Immediately Grant realizes his mistake. The reptile looks right at him, its lips peeled back to show its rows and rows of razor sharp teeth.

It charges at him, and he shrieks. Acting purely on instinct and fear, he dives forward, just narrowly avoiding the reptile’s claws as they sail over him. He’s on the ground only for a heartbeat, then he rushes for the cat carcass again. He’s quick, but the beast is much quicker. It strikes out with its claws, swiping his legs and making him fall face-first to the dirt. It presses down on his back with a heavy foot, forcing the air from his lungs. He can’t move, can’t call out, can’t––!

Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, Abraham is on top of them both. He snatches the beast by the head and yanks it off of Grant. The boy flips onto his back in time to watch Abraham crush its head in his hand. Its body twitches, then falls limply to the ground.

“I told you to stay––” the giant starts to scold him, but another reptile pounces and claws at his side. Blood, hot and red, splatters onto Grant. It’s too much. He keels over, feeling dizzy, sick to his stomach. Bile wells in his throat. The world gets blurry. Then the world lurches. A pressure closes around Grant’s middle and lifts him off of his feet. He only gets to register a moment of panic before the stress overtakes him, and he falls unconscious.

***

Stupid fucking kid!

Abraham grits his teeth and growls. First the little idiot doesn’t stay in the cell, then he goes and gets chased by a lizard, and now he passes out? In the middle of a damn match? The giant has half a mind to shake the bastard.

“Get––OFF!” He roars, shoving the first lizard off of his side. The second one snaps at the hand holding the now unconscious Grant.

This is a disaster. This kid’s gonna die, and Abraham can’t protect him like this. He pushes himself up and grabs the dagger he’d chosen earlier. The two remaining beasts snarl and hiss at him, their eyes glimmering with ravenous hunger.

Alright.

Grant had one good idea in this mess. The dead cat beast is probably the safest place for him right now. And, conveniently, it lies cut open from chest to crotch. Abraham just has to get the boy past the reptiles.

“Come on then,” he growls. He holds Grant closer to his chest, and has his dagger at the ready. The first beast pounces. He turns his shoulder to shove it off balance, and slashes viciously at its belly until it backs away. The second one tries to flank him, and leaves an opening to the cat in doing so. Abraham dives for the carcass. He plunges his fist into the chest cavity and drops the boy inside, hoping and praying that he didn’t drown in blood.

Now, with both hands free, Abraham faces the reptiles once more. One is in pretty bad shape, bleeding badly from several gashes. The other sports a few stab wounds from their earlier spat, but still looks like it has plenty of fight left in it.

How long has he been in this cage? This coliseum? The giant bows his head and sighs, eyes falling closed. The adrenaline rush is coming to an end, and the pain buffer along with it. It’s not the worst pain he’s felt since coming here, though. He should be able to sleep through it. Already he feels himself starting to fall forward, body ready to curl into a ball on the concrete floor and try to get some rest.

The chains rattle, giving him only a moment’s notice before they’re yanked back through the holes in the wall, pulling his arms along with them. He grits his teeth and grunts as he’s hoisted up, arms spread and body left to hang so he’s just barely able to stay on his knees. The giant looks to his restraints, to how the cruel metal presses into his skin, then turns his gaze to the cell door opposite of him.

Being held up like this usually means he’s being fed, or he’s being taken out and transported to the fighting ring. God, he prays for the former, though it wouldn’t be the first time he was forced to fight twice in one day . . ..

Even bound and gagged, the young man still fights, struggling with the two other, older men dragging him through the concrete corridors. Despite the cloth in his mouth, he still tries to shout and holler. He even tries to bite one of the men, but he can neither reach far enough, nor can he close his teeth around the fabric. It doesn’t stop him from trying, though. He is nothing if not a fighter.

“ Christ, ”  the left man––the one he tried to bite––groans,  “ this one’s feisty enough to throw out in the ring! Might last more n’ two seconds, eh? ”  His thick accent, some ugly, English-sounding prick, is difficult to understand.

“ Could be fun. ‘nfortunately, he’s got another destiny ahead, ”  says the right man. The boy glares up at the both of them. He can’t see their faces beyond the masks they wear, but he doesn’t recognize their voices. They’re just common thugs––grunts and henchmen. That doesn’t make him hate them any less, though. Whatever they plan to do with him, he doesn’t intend to make it easy for them. He digs his heels into the floor, but it only slows their pace for a moment. The left man snorts, hits him with a sharp uppercut to the diaphragm, and shoves him along while he coughs and holds back his tears.

The young man’s only just regained his breath when the men force him to turn, the three of them now facing a large, metal gate. The bars are thick. It’s a door, he realizes. It’s a large sliding door––a cell. And beyond the bars, held back up against the wall . . ..

Aw, and he’d just started to breathe normally again! But the sight before him makes the boy gasp, a new fear awake within him. The two men laugh and guffaw and make horrible noises, both holding onto the boy’s arms as he tries to kick and shove and break free. The left man gives him another punch to the gut, this one eliciting a sickening groan from him, and incapacitating him long enough for the right to type in the door code. It slides aside, clicking like any prison cell door would. The left man shoves the boy in with another ugly laugh, and the door closes behind him. Still cringing, the boy can only curl in on himself, helpless, and now trapped in a cage with a monster.

“ Enjoy your dinner, beastie, ”  one of the men yells. He can’t quite tell which one; they both sound the same. One word hits him hard, though––just as hard as both punches, and just as capable of stealing his breath: dinner. 

The two voices echo and start to fade. Slowly, still shaking, the boy pushes himself to sit, eyes wide and staring up at the . . .––at the giant man. The giant, blood-covered man.

And he’s dinner.

Confusion strikes the giant when the three figures stop at his door. Usually ten or more men come when he’s being taken out, and usually it’s only one man with a wheelbarrow that brings food. It’s never three people. The door’s opening doesn’t clear anything up either. Guards are a common sight in this hell hole, but the third one between them––that’s no guard. That’s . . . well, he looks like he’s just a normal human, snatched from the outside, much like the giant was. He grimaces as the stranger is struck and shoved in, but remains very much lost as the door closes again.

“ Enjoy your dinner, beastie. ”  

What? No. The giant furrows his brows and looks to the stranger, and then to the retreating guards. No. This has to be some sort of sick joke. It takes him several seconds to process this event, and several more to react. By the time the stranger’s seemingly caught some of his bearings, the giant finds his words again.

“ I don’t––hello? ”  He calls out, though he suspects it won’t do him any good. Still, he tries.  “ Giants don’t eat people! Hey! ” 

Silence. Of course. This is a sick joke. This whole thing is a sick joke. Giants and other creatures being captured and imprisoned and forced to fight in a gladiatorial ring? That’s a sick joke. This honestly shouldn’t be so shocking, but the giant is revolted all the same.

A whimper draws his attention back down to the stranger. Now that he’s looking up at him, the giant can better see his features. It strikes him that this stranger is a kid. He can’t be more than seventeen, eighteen years old! Oh, if he had anything in him right now, the giant would hurl in disgust. Instead, he can only sigh and stare back at him. The poor creature’s terrified of him. He doesn’t blame him. Fellow giants might be startled by his appearance; he can only imagine how a human feels seeing a fifty-foot-tall man covered in viscera.

“ Take out your gag, ”  he says finally. The boy doesn’t move. The giant opens his mouth to repeat it, but his chains suddenly go slack and pour from the walls, letting him fall heavily to his hands and knees with a grunt. That gets the boy moving, gets him scooting away desperately, as best he can with his arms bound. 

“ Ow. Easy, kid . . .. “  the giant croaks. He looks up to see him with his back against the cell bars. He could still reach him, now that his chains are loosened, but he doesn’t make any movements towards him. No need to frighten him more. Instead, the giant leans back onto his feet and rests his hands in his lap, keeping them visible.

“ I’m not going to hurt you. Like I said: giants don’t eat people. Humans included. ”  It’s an annoying misconception that the giant had faced even before this dreadful place.  “ Your gag, kid, ”  he says again, nodding his head towards the boy. It still takes him a few more moments to snap out of his stupor, but, once he does, he yanks at the gag and pulls it off over his head. Red lines run along his cheeks where the cloth had been digging into his skin. He stares up at the giant, still wordless. The giant assumes from all the gawking that the boy has never seen a giant before, or never been this close. Their kind don’t tend to interact too often.

“ Got a name? ”  It’s weird to speak. It’s weird to think that it’s weird to speak. That must mean that the giant has been here for longer than he thought. The only times he’d speak prior to now was when he’d shout and demand to be released, or yell in the ring. He’d run his voice ragged from all the noise he’d make, but still he cannot recall a single conversation he’s had with anyone here.

The boy is still quiet, still gawking up at him. He sighs and leans his head back, eyes closing. He’s so hungry . . .. Echoing his thoughts, his stomach growls rather noisily, but the giant has learned to ignore it. The boy, however, not so much. His soft gasp draws the giant’s attention back to him.

“ I’m not going to do it. Promise. ”  He doesn’t expect it to mean much to the boy, but he promises himself too. No matter how hungry he gets, he will not eat another person.  “ My name’s Abraham. I’m . . . really sorry you got drawn into this. If you can, you should try to find a way to escape. Probably easier for someone your size. ” 

Of all the things the boy expected to happen to him, being fed to a giant was not on the list. It wasn’t even within the realm of possibility. Yet, here he is, trapped in a cell with a giant. Oh, he’s a mean-looking one too. His bare torso is covered in scars and scabs and even a few open wounds––and blood. His eyes, though––the way they stare back into the boy––they don’t quite match the rest of the picture. The giant’s eyes look confused, concerned, sad. And his voice––once he’s stopped yelling at the guards and started talking directly to the boy, his voice is soft, like he’s actively trying not to scare him.

He still does scare him, but the fact that he’s ( presumably ) trying not to is . . . something. It provides some small comfort––about as small as the boy feels next to this massive being right now.

That growl, though––that growl coming from the giant’s stomach––dashes that modicum of comfort. He can’t help the gasp that leaves his now-freed mouth, though he immediately covers it with his hands.

Promises, promises.

Hell yeah, he should try to escape! The boy glances around the cell, seeing nothing but . . . cement. Cement walls and steel bars. There’s not even a proper bed in this thing. There’s only a flimsy blanket on one side and a hole in the floor on the other. The cell itself is too small for the giant; it doesn’t look like he wouldn’t be able to stretch his arms out fully in any direction, even without the chains. It’s a concrete box, is what it is, not fit for animals, let alone people, giant or not. With the giant in here, though, it feels all the more suffocating. No matter where the boy moves, he still looms over him.

That does raise another point of interest, though: if the giant really were intending to eat him ( at least right now ), well, he’s plenty capable of grabbing the boy. There is nowhere in this cell that he could go where he would be out of the giant’s reach now that his chains are loosened. 

Maybe this giant––Abraham ( kinda unexpected that a giant has a human name, though when was the last time someone named their kid Abraham? )––really doesn’t intend to eat him. For now.

The sense of danger isn’t gone, but it’s lessened enough for the boy to take his eyes off of Abraham for more than a moment. He turns his attention to the rope still binding his wrists together. It’s tight and uncomfortable, both in how it forces him to hold his arms, and in how it digs into his skin.

“ Want me to get that for you? ”  Fuck. That voice is soft, but the presence is still overwhelming. The boy tightens his jaw. Of course not. He doesn’t want the giant to be anywhere near him! But that’s . . . unavoidable. No matter how either of them move, so long as they are both in this cell, he is going to be uncomfortably close to the giant.

Slowly, tentatively, the boy lifts his arms, offering his bound wrists to the giant. Abraham momentarily looks surprised, like he hadn’t expected the boy to agree ( and he is, truthfully, just as surprised at his own cooperation ), but he says nothing. He reaches his massive hands forward––fuck. The boy flinches back.

“ It’s okay, ”  Abraham says.  “ Take your time. I know you’re scared. ” 

Fuck! He doesn’t like hearing it! It’s true––completely and entirely true––but the boy wrinkles his nose regardless. He takes a breath to steady himself, and tries again, lifting his arms to the giant. This time, though, he squeezes his eyes shut and keeps his head turned away, sparing himself from the frightening image of Abraham’s hands coming towards him. It has . . . relative success in easing him. He still flinches when he feels those big fingers brush his sleeves, when he feels them poke and prod and tug at the ropes, and snap them off like they’re cobwebs.

The relief is instantaneous, though. The boy releases his held breath and pulls his arms back, rubbing at his wrists. His skin is bruised with ligature marks, but overall it feels much better to have his mobility back.

“ Thanks . . . ”  the boy mumbles, still not looking up at the giant.  “ It’s, uh . . . it’s Grant. ” 

“ I’m sorry? ”  Geez. He’s going to have to get used to the giant speaking. There’s still something unnerving about a voice coming from so high up, yet still being so close.

“ My name. It’s Grant. ”

“ Ah. Okay. How old are you, Grant? “ 

Again, Grant crinkles his nose. What’s it to the giant?  “ ‘m not a kid. ” 

The giant huffs. It’s dry, almost a laugh.  “ You look young enough to be my kid, kid. ”

Grant returns the huff, indignant. Topic change.  “ Where are we? Why are you here? ” 

Abraham’s expression falters. Any sliver of humor he’d had is gone just as quickly as it came. He breathes a heavy sigh and looks up to the ceiling, too low for him to stand up in.