Starsinger

Monsters

The griffin's beady eyes watched Sapphire suspiciously as she tossed the fish into its cage. Instead of leaping to catch its meal the way it did whenever the handler did the feeding, it let the slimy scales slap wetly against the rocky floor.

Suddenly the griffin lunged. Sapphire snatched her arm back through the bars just before its beak could close around her wrist.

"Gods above," she swore. The griffin's lion claws scratched the ground restlessly as it pawed away, making another circuit of its limited kingdom.

Ungrateful halfbeast monstrosity. Malcolm's menagerie had several of the things, each taller than Sapphire, with a wingspan nearly double their own height. They were quick for their size and nasty, and had made it very clear that they didn't like her.

A popular sentiment. Her chains clanked as she dragged the basket of fish to the next cage. Her cuffs were layered, obsidian shackles covered in a thick band of iron, her arms and legs linked together like metal webbing. During the day she had some freedom of movement, but at night the handler would loop another long chain through her manacles and bolt it to the floor of her cage.

Her cage. Sapphire clenched her jaw as she slopped a handful of fish into a tank with a glittering pool that seemed empty. Almost immediately the slop disintegrated, the glittering points of the tiny carnivorous fish swarming around their carcasses. Sapphire's cage was near the center of the menagerie, nothing more than packed dirt, a pitcher of water and a bucket to relieve herself. In truth, she'd slept in less comfortable conditions – but the grim sight of the bars and the weight of the shackles grated on her, made her throat close with panic every morning when she woke to remember where she was. Trapped.

The next cage in the row was larger, a mountainous habitat for a silver-coated wolverine who spent most of his time curled up in a shallow cave, sleeping or sulking. Not today. As Sapphire approached, she heard the creature before she saw it, whining pitifully and wedged between a fallen rock and the bars of the cage.

Damn. Sapphire slowly set down the basket of fish and moved closer to the cage. There'd been a slight earth tremor the night before, and the rock must have jostled free and caught the wolverine. It's jaws and claws were fierce, bone pale against its grey-silver fur, but the wolverine was small, barely larger than the cats they kept in the kitchens at Ellanoi. There was only so much an animal could struggle against that kind of weight.

The wolverine snarled as Sapphire slipped her hands between the bars.

"Shut up, you." The chains linking her manacles didn't give her much room to maneuver, but she found a grip on both sides of the rock. Pushing with her legs, she heaved it up and off the injured creature.

The rock crashed against the back of the cage and the wolverine lashed out, slicing deep into Sapphire's forearm.

"Gods damn it." Sapphire jerked backwards so hard she fell. Pain sliced up her arm into the back of her skull as she clutched at the wound, blood flowing freely from the torn skin and muscle. She wanted her knives. Wanted to lunge forward and plunge her dagger into the limping, growling wolverine, wanted to kill it so it could never hurt her again.

Heavy steps turned the corner. The handler. The lines of the old man's face deepened as he took in the scene: Sapphire bleeding and swearing viciously, the wolverine struggling back to its cave with a warning hiss.

Silently, the handler routed around in a burlap pocket before tossing a roll of bandage to Sapphire.

It was awkward to bind her own wound, one-handed and shackled, but Sapphire managed. The muslin stung against her open flesh. She grit her teeth and wrapped it tighter.