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The corridor was barren as a young man shuffled through it, watchmen flanking either side. There was nothing of note in the lifeless halls where they stood. The walls were empty save for the jutting irregular stone lined with mildewed moisture, no sound other than their own muffled steps, and hardly any light, save for the thin flicker of lanterns lining the walls. The space, by it’s very nature, was oppressive. The stones that his sore feet padded across were uneven with sharp edges that threatened to break skin under the slightest misstep. It seemed they had felt the steps of many poor souls over time but retained their course nature and responded in the only way they knew: with cold, lifeless indifference.

“This one on the right”, his more experienced escort grunted.

They turned him to face a thick door made of wood and metal. The lumber was worn and grayed, but showed no signs of damage despite the moisture of the surrounding space. There were four tightly-spaced bars at head-height set into an open frame, the only window into the darkness looming behind the barrier.

“Hands on the door.”

Delvin sucked in a short breath and reached forward cautiously. It wasn’t quick enough to satisfy the guards and earned a rough shove that sent his head crashing into the wood with a muted thump. He struggled to stay on his feet but didn't falter completely, making no further effort to move despite the ringing in his ears. The door kept him steady while the two men had a laugh.

“He’s got a bit of meat on 'is bones for a back-alley thief, don't he?”

“They come in all shapes 'nd sizes, but all of 'em shrivel up eventually. He won’t keep that fat fer long down ‘ere. Oy, spread them legs.”

Delvin closed his eyes tightly and did as he was told, following instructions to keep from giving them another reason to hurt him. The only thoughts in his head wandered above ground, to the warm sunshine and cool breeze that danced across his imagination. Maybe it was raining. There was no way to tell in these halls.

The man in charge interrupted his thoughts, putting a giant arm on the back of Delvin’s neck and pressing him harder into the door. He barked instructions to his partner.

“Take off them shackles. Leave the stocks on ‘is wrists.”

There was a shuffle and he felt the second guard working to remove the metal bindings. The shackles had been in place long enough to begin rubbing the skin raw, and he made no effort to be gentle. When the latch clicked, the guard seemed to take pleasure in ripping them from his ankles. A sting of pain peeled across skin and a small trickle of blood slid down the young man’s foot to the cold ground. He didn’t make a sound, but desperately wanted to kick back in retaliation.

“Alright, now the pants,” said the guard holding him to the door. The other laughed and backed away.

“I ‘ent touching ‘em. You wanna grab hold ‘a them piss covered britches, be my guest.”

The pants had come from another prisoner while Delvin was still above ground. His own roughly-worn garments had been deemed too nice to be left in his possession, so they were confiscated and the fledgling prisoner received a "brand new" pair from the execution of the day. The human body doesn't hold itself together well when one's neck is about to be cut or hung from a rope, and Delvin considered himself lucky nothing more unseemly had been left in the ratty, damp clothing.

The second man continued to snicker while the other snarled and pulled a knife from his belt. "For that, you get to carry them back up," he spat with a growl.

The blade of the knife slid between skin and the waist of the pants, slicing downward. They fell to his ankles and Delvin was left with nothing save for the wood and metal stocks around his wrists. The full realization of how cold it felt down here hit him hard, and his body shivered instinctively. Skin prickled and raised like welts as the hair on his arms stood erect.

The guard grunted, kicking the garments down the hall before yanking him away from the door. The young man kept his eyes on the cold floor, not wanting to look at the dark abyss waiting in front of him. A harsh jingle resounded in the muted hallway as one of the guards took a set of keys from his waist and slid it into the latch. Metal scraped on metal as the lock protested and a faint clunk echoed as the mechanism fell into place. It was unlocked, yet not open. For the briefest moment, he was still free. He was surrounded, humiliated, and cold, but not locked away and forgotten. Not yet.

..and then the moment ended. The door was forced open with no small amount of effort, and the guards thrust him inside, tripping him over the uneven stones only to land painfully on his side. The second man grumbled and kicked the ruined trousers further out of sight, apparently still trying to avoid touching them. A large silhouette stepped into view, blocking the doorway, but staying out of reach of the darkness interred within.

“Boy, did you pick the wrong man to cross. Magis Clemens specifically requested you get the honeymoon suite after your little stunt which means you’re down here for good. Probably already forgotten about t' be honest. Oh, and enjoy your cellmate. Never had company before. Doesn’t get fed much neither.” He added his last comment with an evil grin and a snicker. “You might be just what ‘e needs.”

There was a laugh from down the corridor, and the second man snorted, “The beast'll eat him in a day or two anyway. Thing's practically dead already.”

Delvin half-expected the door to slam shut, but instead it swung slowly, betraying it's weight as the finality of that moment ended with a click when the mechanism locked into place automatically. The young man backed himself into the nearest corner as fast as his bound hands would allow. His bare skin quickly became uncomfortable as the warmth of his body was stolen mercilessly by the cold stone. While his eyes were focused on a tiny amount of light that trickled from the corridor through those four metal bars, he heard the clatter of metal on stone. It was a sharp and grating tone in the depressing blackness of the cell.

A low, reverberating growl grew from the darkness and a shape began to materialize in the opposite corner. The dark shadow slowly stood, suddenly filling the seemingly empty space, and cast its eyes down toward the young man. Light glinted faintly off the large metal stock encircling its neck. Chains rattled, and Delvin assumed it was fashioned to the wall in some way, keeping it distanced. A clink of metal on metal betrayed wrists that were bound in tandem as well. It’s teeth, glaring white monoliths, flashed like beacons while the rest of its body was obscured. The darkness surrounding the form seemed to swirl with movement, and Delvin was convinced he saw hunger reflected in its sunken eyes.

Dry lips smacked once or twice and a guttural voice growled from the corner, rough with disuse. “Why have they thrown you in MY cell, human?”

Delvin shrank away at the sound of its voice, unable to believe what he was seeing. He had heard stories of beasts and monsters. They were denizens of the deep woods, magic users, children-eaters, worshipers of invisible gods, predators of man. Rumors, truth, it didn’t matter as they were not welcome in the cities of man. He couldn’t fathom why, but chained to the other side of the wall was one of the Wild Kith, and the young man’s eyes were fixated on the shadowy form, unable to look away.

Words formed halfway and caught in his throat; he only mumbled incoherent nonsense. Delvin tried again, steadying himself and straightening slightly, willing himself to stop shaking from the cold, the shame, and the fear with little luck.

It didn't help.

"I don't know,” was all he managed.

In that moment, despite the feigned stoicism, he lost the battle of will against his own body and turned sharply, retching into the corner he was so desperately trying to disappear into. Very little came up. Delvin had barely eaten in days; receiving only paltry water and bread while waiting to learn his fate had left the tank empty, unable to produce much more than bile.

Realization hit him as the acidic taste dripped from his lips. There was no more public embarrassment, he would no longer be paraded around the city as a thief and criminal in piss-soaked trousers and shackles. His fate was to be thrown away, forgotten or executed, whichever came first. Eyes turned up and away from the thin fluid at his feet to the menacing presence sharing the space. The young man’s overactive mind added a new way to die: eaten by a beast hidden away below the surface of the earth.

The hulking shadow stared at Delvin’s body and snorted. It struck him as such a cold, derisive noise, well at home in the dark cell. Large paws with dirty claws closed the distance far too fast for the thin emaciated body they were attached to and gripped the young man’s shoulders, distanced appropriately for the smaller frame despite the stocks holding them. He turned the young man's body from side to side while he was frozen in fear. The illusion that he could stay out of reach had been immediately broken, but he raised his chin defiantly, despite his eyes still adjusting to the blackness. It snorted again and offered a weak push, releasing the man and settling down in the shadows in a notably silent manner.

“You’re unharmed, save for the bruises. Do not stand there. Gather yourself and stay quiet. Do not waste what little you may have in your belly. You will become accustomed to the silence quickly. Wailing, crying, or pleading with your gods won't help.”

It listed off the warnings, or wisdom, he wasn't sure, with bleak finality. Delvin stared into the dark in disbelief. The sudden jarring confusion and frustration brought speech back to him before his brain could function properly, offering only a feeble retort.

“…what?”

The Wild Kith peered at him, disinterested, and its brow furrowed, hidden in the darkness. “I’m not going to eat you, despite what those men would like you to believe.” It paused for a moment. “Unless you start carrying on like an injured cub, then I might consider it just to keep the peace and quiet.”

Delvin sank down where he stood, careful to avoid the small amount of vomit, and recognized other acrid scents in the cell that reminded him of bodily waste. He shifted, pulling bare limbs to his chest, sliding them across the cold, uneven floor and wrapping chilled arms around his knees. His eyes stayed focused on the space the beast occupied in front of him while his body betrayed him once again and he began to shiver.

“I just thought...”

“Save yourself the trouble and do less of that,” it interrupted.

They sat in silence for a moment, and Delvin was unsure whether to speak or lay motionless. The longer the stillness wore on, the more he realized he wouldn’t be able to sit there long. The ground was too cold, and the dark damp conditions combined to keep a slick, slimy film over the stone in the cell. Only the Gods knew what may be growing on the walls.

He opened his mouth to speak and the hulking shadow turned toward him, stopping the boy mid breath. Delvin subconsciously checked the distance between them again and continued: “Who are you? Why are you here?”

The beast shifted and this time Delvin saw barely visible dark fur covering its body, but the true color was difficult to make out in the dark. His senses were adjusting still, and human eyes were simply not made for the environment. The darkness that had flowed around it when the Kith had grasped him was definitely thick fur, though. It looked as though the hide was a shadow manifested physically, an intangible object made come to life in the way it ruffled and flowed.

Delvin closed his eyes briefly and sharpened his attention on the space around him. He had discovered at a young age that he could hear and see better than his brothers, but only when he was concentrating especially hard. If he was distracted, it didn't matter, and the process was difficult with a body wanting nothing more than to get warm and a belly wanting nothing more than to be full. After a brief pause, his eyes opened slowly and the oppressive darkness lessened. It was still difficult to see, but the tones shifted to a dark gray instead of black, the gaps in the stone at his feet were more clear, and he truly looked at his cellmate for the first time.

The beast's frame was wide, but emaciated with sickly looking fur covering it's body. He couldn't tell the color, but it was dark and smoky. Patches were falling out in places, revealing a prominent rib cage and harsh edges where the body should be softer. It's ears were rounded on top of it's head with a wide muzzle jutting out from the face but still obscured by the silhouette. It's arms were locked in a pair of metal stocks, different from the wood-and-metal bindings that Del carried, and they rested on it's thighs. The broad head and shoulders were split by a similarly metal stock that looked heavy and painful, pulling the beast into a slouch and removing some of his impressive height. As he suspected, chains were attached that connected it to the wall, limiting its movement to this small cell. Del thought he maybe had enough distance to the chain to stand before the door, but would be unable to step through the frame.

As if Delvin had spoken out loud, the Kith’s ears swiveled in his direction and it turned, muzzle twitching with nostrils flaring and a curious look on its face. The interest was fiery, but only lasted briefly before the expression soured again and its large maw opened to speak.

“It doesn’t matter why I here, only that I am,” it replied.

His concentration shattered and he was plunged back into the darkness. Delvin's head throbbed for a moment as if he’d been spun in a circle and he paused briefly to compose himself. It was no longer visible to his human eyes, but there was another brief curious expression from the surly cell mate.

Delvin spoke. “But that doesn’t make sense. The citadel doesn’t police the forest, only land within the walls and extending from the roads. There hasn’t been a Wild Kith within city walls for decades...”

There was a quick and contemptuous reply.

“And I suppose your leaders tell their people only truth, do they?”

Delvin thought for a moment and realized the beast had a point. He brushed off the response and, his courage bolstered by the fact that he was still alive, continued. “You... well, you never answered my other question. Who are you and... what are you?” The next words were a half-truth. “I can’t see very well down here.”

There was more shadowy shifting and it turned again, crouching and then leaning forward as far as the metal chain binding its neck would allow. The broad face turned toward the small amount of light peeking through the metal window. Delvin could see some more of the body now: the broad muzzle held sharp teeth, vibrant but sunken eyes and a body that once showed signs of power and strength wasting away. The fur was a deep sable and the patchy hair hid scars from his past and sores from his time in the cell.

“I am of the Karhun, child. Your kind would liken me to a bear but I am nothing of the sort.” There was a puff of pride in his voice. “If you must address me, call me Jebediah.”

With that, he leaned away from the light and settled against the far wall once more. Not even ten feet away yet shrouded in darkness.

Something about the human-ness of his interaction, particularly coming from a Wild Kith, one of the monsters of the woods, made Delvin take pause. For the first time, it made him recognize his own nakedness as well. Such a human vanity to be worried about, but he was jealous of the fur that covered the Karhun’s body, however sparse, in such a cold, lifeless place as this.

“My name is Delvin.... uh, Del,” he offered. Damn the bear-thing. The beast could listen if he wanted to, he didn’t need him to talk back. He'd been told to told to keep his mouth shut since the arrest and they were in the same cold ass cell.

“I have 2 brothers,” he said. “They do not share my blood, but they are as close to kin as I'm ever going to see. I’m here because of coin; the purse I pinched was for them. It was just a tiny satchel on a rich man, something I’ve done a hundred times before. I had no idea it was Magis Clemens. I should have known...” He paused, thinking back to his survey of the crowd. He hadn't ever made a mistake like that before. “...there was too much of a crowd. He must have had guard, or felt my hand, or something. The second I wrapped my fingers around the bag, I was face first in the dirt.”

His voice grew full of force and confidence, anger burning as he continued.

“I won’t ever see them again. All because of the stupid Magis. He lives like a king and anyone who doesn’t treat him as such is nothing more than a bindbug to crush under his foot. I should have waited and watched longer… I should have…”

Anxious emotions washed over him anew, threatening to bring up more thin bile, but he fell silent, staring at the binding around his wrists. He twisted them in the open loops out of frustration, the metal and wood scraping against each other. The cold and the stress were too much. He felt sick.

There was, again, a shifting motion from the darkness as Jebediah slid more tightly into the far corner. The Karhun motioned to the space beside him without words, shackles providing vague instruction as they jostled quietly. Delvin stood still, unable to see what the Kith was doing in the dark. There was a deep sigh, but it betrayed a softness that had not been apparent before.

“Come. There is straw here. It will not provide warmth, but it may cut the cold.”

The young man slowly rolled forward on his feet. The space was small, enough so that Jebediah had already proved he could reach the man no matter where he stood. If he was keeping distant for fear of injury it wouldn’t matter, and the offer of a place to sit where his skin might not touch damp stone was alluring.

Jebediah spoke up again. “You will not survive long in such conditions. They were aware of this when you were placed here. Come.”

Del stepped forward. The dark corner that he approached had been hiding a small bed of straw, barely enough for the older Karhun. The material was flattened with use and looked as if it had never been changed, but it had been kept relatively clean. The beast's weight had left an impression and the young man stood over it.

Del looked at the foreigner next to him and then back at his feet and the pallet of straw beneath them. "What do you care if I live or die?"

There was an exasperated huff of air. "Sit down. I wish for silence and you wish to survive the night. Do not question others' goodwill."

Settling into the straw, Delvin could immediately feel the residual warmth from where the beast had been. It was a blessing, but it also meant he was immediately within reach, and the thought weighed on him.

"I grew up on the streets within the citadel walls. I always question good-will given without something expected in return," Delvin replied.

Lips curled up and the white teeth lining its thick muzzle glinted in the small amount of light that existed in the dark cell. "Then you are smarter than I thought.”