Dahlia
The first day was bad.
The second was worse.
By the third, numbness began to set in.
The dungeon stank of sweat, blood, and tears. The clammy air did nothing to help the situation, nor did the darkness. It was impossible to tell day from night, except by the routine of the guards. They came every morning, forcing us to eat, forcing me to take a pungent liquid that I had guessed was keeping my kidney at bay. A few hours later they would come back, ready to begin their cycle of torment.
Hunter took the brunt of it. He took their punches, took their blades and whips.
They didn't lay a hand on me, not unless I became too erratic trying to free myself to get to Hunter. That would only trigger him, which in turn made everything so much worse. I eventually stopped fighting because
