The Knight's Eyes

38: HOPE IN THE UNCERTAIN

KIT POV

Misery had subsided and death heightened. The week was a dreadful one. One by one prisoners dropped dead until those who still lived gave up to deathly silence. Even though the noise was gone, they kept their voices at a low tone and their movements calm and steady. Not only did Mister Allen continue his black moldy goo treatment that continued to make him crampy and sweaty, but also they had to fight off tons of mos-bees and flies claiming the floor.

"Why can't we leave?" Kit had suggested plenty of times, but Mister Allen insisted they stay. He had no clue on how to escape a prison and exploring the floor may lead them to be stung.

They had managed to survive through one week, Mister Allen two weeks, and still they were alive and well. It was the physician's mission to keep it that way. The only times they did leave the cell it was to use the privy and even those trips were tedious and disgusting. Their small fire had upgraded to a larger pan, which warmed them up greatly and kept the mos-bees away.

Every day, Mister Allen would inspect his body. Kit and the physter were speechless every time. The liquid his body was excreting had stopped. Most of the pain was gone. The results no one would believe unless they saw for themselves. The entire right side of his body from neck to toes had transformed into pure wood, smooth and rich brown. They both poked, rubbed, and scrapped his wooden skin with great curiosity.

"Does that hurt?" Mister Allen would ask every time.

"No. Not really. It's more of a pressure and splintery feeling," he'd respond.

They sat in their comfortable spots on the floor, Mister Allen sound asleep and Kit drawing on some parchment they had found on one of their trips. He stuck the nail of his right thumb into his mouth and tasted nothing but wood. He stuck his tongue out, "Yuk." He eyed his wooden hand and groaned. The day before he actually thought what happened to him was cool. However, this genetic mutation had its quirks.

Making a stool was difficult. Good thing his little buddy somehow escaped the frenzy. His neck was stiff all the time. His fingers and toes would crunch at their joints whenever he stretched or moved them. At times, his wooden skin would itch like there was no end or relief. Then at times, he'd endure long moments of pain and aches as the other side of his body tried to adapt to the changes. One night, he cried until his eyes burnt and his neck twisted in throbs. Sir Alsindad's father held him close that night. Within his spoiled clothing, Kit could faintly smell apples. It reminded him of his sweet mother, which helped him drift off to sleep.

He spread out both hands to compare them. The wooden one was smooth yet it looked rather dead beside his normal hand. He sighed, bottom lip quivering as he held back tears, "I'm a boy and half wood."

"Hmm? What was that?"

Kit looked over at the sleeping physician who he owed his life too. "I thought you were sleeping."

"In and out," he muttered smacking his lips and shifting until his head leaned against the wall.

"Mister Allen."

"Hmm?"

"Do you miss Sir Alsindad?"

A smirk formed across his face. He nodded, eyes still calmly closed. How could he be so calm?

"You never brought him up since I've been here."

His eyes finally peeled open. He stared at the floor for a while far into thought. "I think about him all the time."

"Well, in the two years I've known him, I've looked up to him."

"Really?" his gaze looked at him, but he could tell the man was far into his thoughts.