God of Monsters (Juniper Unraveling #4) - Keri Lake Page 0,48
Stones.
They chuck the rocks into the air, and I follow the path of each throw to a crevice in the building. Unable to see what’s inside, I step out, careful to keep my distance from them, while the next man hurls a rock.
“What is it?” I lean toward one of the guard’s I recognize from my transport here, but the moment the question tumbles past my lips, an object falls from the crevice, landing to the ground.
“Son of a bitch, you hit it!” one of the men shouts, and bellows of laughter follow.
Ignoring the cheers of the men, I focus my attention on the creature hopping along. A small wren, whose wing is now clearly broken.
“Oh, my God.” Keeping an eye out for another throw, I scamper toward the animal and step carefully around it, so as not to frighten the poor bird. Mindful of the wounds on my back that I don’t want to disrupt, I kneel at its side, hands outstretched, while I visualize how I’ll go about picking it up. With a small bit of hesitation, I scoop the small wren into my palms, careful not to further crush its wings. Perhaps it’s only the shock of the injury that keeps the bird from fending me off, but aside from just a few small pecks at my finger, she sits trembling in my palms as I lift her from the ground.
On passing the assholes who hit her, my glare is met with chuckles and snorts. “Savages,” I mutter, carrying the bird inside the prison, and catch a strange stare from one of the guards on the way in. Most ignore me, but something in his stare is unnerving, and I keep my focus on the bird.
Once back at my cell, I settle onto the cot with the first aid kit Tom retrieved the day before, one I held onto because I have a feeling that this place breeds injury.
This isn’t my first time mending a wing, either. In Szolen, one of the native women and I found a crow with a broken wing, and I watched as she repaired it. Of course, it would never fly again after, but it was able to tuck its wing enough to get around. With a gentle hand, I feel along the length of the wing to where a sharp protrusion marks its injury. At home, I’d apply raw honey and some gauze. Here, I’ve only a small tincture of iodine that expired six years ago. Once I’ve cleaned the wound, I wrap it with the thin bandaging tape, avoiding her defensive pecking with every sweep of my hand.
“I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I promise, I won’t let anyone else hurt you.” Within minutes, the wound is securely wrapped, and I set the bird down on my bed, allowing her to hop around.
Glancing around the room shows nothing for her to nestle in, aside from the space itself being one massive cage. For the next hour, I watch and pet her, hoping to gain her trust.
It isn’t long before darkness falls, the shadows stretching across the walls toward me, and a sense of foreboding crawls over my spine, as another night approaches. A clanking sound echoes from down the hall, and with the thud of approaching footsteps, I search for a place to hide the bird.
The drawer of the nightstand will have to do for now, until I can find a proper bed for it.
I stuff it inside and sit back on my bed, waiting to see who approaches.
The guard I noticed from outside, the creepy one, stands in the doorway, arms crossed. “I’ve been asked to fetch you for Remus.”
My stomach twists into tight knots, and I look around the room, as if there’s some unseen portal where I can hide in an alternate dimension.
There’s nowhere, and when his brows wing up expectantly, I reluctantly climb from my bed.
Don’t do anything stupid, I remind myself. Having found Will, I have more reasons today to survive and get back to Szolen, but the thought of being subjected to Remus’s sick and twisted pastime a second night in a row is a dread I can’t bear to face again.
As I attempt to pass the guard, I feel a tight clutch of my arm, which sends alarms through me.
“You want out of this place.”
It’s not a question, and I’m certain he can see the answer written all over my face. “You know a way?”