I:
Altan Nergui tugged as many strands of hay as he could over him yet it was still never enough, The stuff made for a horrid blanket but it was better than nothing. "It's prison.." he muttered to himself "What're you going to do about it..?". He tucked his knees in and buried his head in his thighs under the hay.
This hadn't been the first time Altan had slept in the cold but it had certainly been a long while since the last time he did. What made it worse was the cursed metal glove covering almost half the entirety of his left arm, he hoped sooner or later his body would warm it up but instead the damned thing just stayed cold.
Perhaps that was another spell placed upon the wretched seal, a sick joke maybe, for other people in the same situation as Altan. But that was unlikely he thought. Altan sat up in his dismal hay bed and felt the lash wounds he got from his captors when the glove refused to come off. "Witchcraft!" They claimed. At the thought of their idiocy, Altan chuckled. It was as if they pretended strange happenings never went on in their world.
The people of Fjorde were known for being so ignorant of everything like this so Altan thought that he should've at least expected something like this happening. But the metal glove wasn't even the reason he was in jail, it was for manslaughter. Unfortunately the defense of "he was asking for it" didn't hold up.'
Altan breathed into his hands and the hot breath reverberated back onto his face and the warmth kept him going. He backed up into a corner and pulled as much hay as he could over him. He sat there for a few minutes pondering on life and such when he heard a crow cawing very close by.
He turned his head toward the direction the noise was coming from and saw an albino crow on his cell windowsill, with a (quite large) bottle of bourbon next to it. "Gift for me friend?" Altan asked the crow. In response, the crow cawed once again and with its left foot tossed it into the cell. Altan jumped forward and caught it, when he looked back up to the window he saw that the crow had vanished.
Altan shrugged, opened the bottle of bourbon, and quickly chugged the whole thing down. Within seconds he felt much more warmer. He set it aside in the corner and quietly thanked the strange crow as he drifted into sleep under his now strangely comfortable blanket of hay.
