The Demon's Hostage

Chapter 2: Alice

Alice woke reluctantly as sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on her face. She glanced toward the demon, seated a short distance away with his back to her, his hands occupied with something she couldn’t quite discern. Not that it mattered. The entire situation still felt unreal, like a nightmare from which there was no escape. Although he hadn’t yet noticed her stirring, she knew demons were cunning by nature. If she attempted an escape, it would have to be when she had a real chance. For now, her best option was to stay close and observe him, despite the disgust that welled up inside her.

As she sat up, a wave of nausea washed over her, a cruel reminder of her blood loss and gnawing hunger. She felt as though she could devour an entire feast and drink an ocean dry. Instinctively, she reached up to fix her hair, only to realize her hands wouldn’t move. Panic set in as she noticed the cold metal bindings shackling her wrists to the tree she had fallen asleep against.

Her heart sank. She tugged at the cuffs, the metallic clanking echoing through the stillness. The noise caught his attention.

“Good morning,” he greeted, still not bothering to face her. “I see you’re getting accustomed to life here.”

She pulled at the restraints with all her might, but it was useless. “What is this?” she demanded, her voice trembling with fear and anger.

“A precaution,” he replied casually. “To ensure you don’t try to escape.”

Her stomach growled loudly, a painful reminder of her dire state. She hadn’t yet noticed the rough iron collar fastened around her neck. When she tried to stand, the collar yanked her back down, the chain rattling with her movement.

He stood and approached her, offering a half-hearted apology. “Sorry about that.”

She touched the collar, feeling its coarse surface against her skin, her voice filled with bitterness. “You don’t really mean that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he admitted with a shrug. “But you have to understand, I can’t risk you running away.”

She strained against the chains again, but they held fast. She had never been physically strong, and the restraints were a harsh reminder of her helplessness.

Her voice trembled with a mix of fear and defiance as she whispered, “I hate you.”

He smiled, holding up a skinned rabbit. “I went out of my way to prepare something you can eat,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “I caught it myself.”

The rabbit was still raw, but its fur had been carefully removed. “I know, I know... you don’t like eating raw food. Fine, that’s fine. I can make a fire too.”

With a flick of his hand, he lit a small campfire he had already prepared.

“Why are you doing all of this?” she asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

“I can’t have you dying after we struck a deal. That would leave a sour taste in my mouth.”

“Good, you deserve it,” she retorted bitterly.

He sat down in front of her, adjusting his cloak as he did. “I didn’t want to cook this rabbit because I was afraid I’d burn it... but with your help, I think I can manage.”

He pierced the rabbit with a sharp piece of wood, holding it over the fire. “This is how you elves do it, isn’t it?”

She knew he was mistaken—this was a human practice. Elves typically boiled animals like rabbits and made stews. But she wouldn’t argue, not on an empty stomach.