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chapter three. captive audience
The iron vibrated with a sudden clang.
Fallon jerked awake, mid-groan. Pain dug into her temple, rendering her prone as she struggled to regain herself. There was pain up her back, in her ribs (an effort to breath), her lip fresh split; she tasted the blood on her temple, and the awful crust of both wounds. Her body, her panic, rose and fell in the uneven consciousness. Finally, she managed to push herself up, twisting her body in the confined space of the cage, to slump against the bars.
"You're awake," said Marth. He'd managed to stuff himself into the corner, though the effort was visible. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his temple. Despite the throb it elicited, Fallon pull her legs to her chest to accommodate him further. "The others are out cold."
She could gather that; a glance showed it was Dalaia and Orikas who'd taken up the most space. Never had they been so close, nor so at piece, with each other.
"They put up a fight." They were in a worse state than she was.
"I'm jealous, getting to sleep it off," said Marth, chuckling awkwardly.
"I suppose you cooperated."
"W-well, I can't take a beating the way the rest of you can." He avoided her gaze. "If it makes you feel any better, I've had to listen to their terrible singing for hours. Not to mention all the talk of what they have planned."
Her hand found the welt of the rock. He'd noticed her noticing it. Did he know she thought he was a coward? They both fell into uneasy silence.
A gust of hot air buffeted her back. Nausea churned through Fallon. Her other senses were catching up to her; she craned her head around to see the bonfire. The air rippled with bellowing and drunken song; a thick meat smell, of unknown origin, permeated the air; her stomach turned. She was revolted, and so, so hungry.
They had been taken to the broken ruins of an ancient site. Their captors, gathered around the fire, on logs, on rocks, dancing, chasing each other with clubs and sticks, were backed by tall walls of thick grey stone, jagged at their tops; perhaps a giant, long ago, had taken a chomp of the ceiling. The goblins were disinterested in their surroundings, in any sense of order. They had thrown all of their supplies into the corner of the structure, and it was there, in the collapsing pile, that Fallon spied their gear.
"Oi! Oi!" Screeched one of the goblins. "Another of 'em is awake! Won't be long now b'fore we can have a play!"
