"Hey!" Veira screamed, an iron fist grappling at her wrist. Despite her struggles, they refused to let go. Her feet dragged against the earth, leaving frantic grooves in the mud as she was pulled into a narrow opening carved into the forest wall. Her eyes welled with tears as she was thrown into a small, boxed-off room—no, a cage disguised as shelter.
The walls were made of thick, sun-hardened clay, cracked from the changing seasons and streaked with the fingerprints of those who built them. The roof was thatched, but reinforced with dense wooden beams wrapped in thorned vines—meant less for protection and more to discourage escape. The only light slipped in through tiny holes near the top, carved just wide enough to taunt her with the breeze. The air inside was humid, bitter with the scent of old sweat, rot, and smoke.
"What're yo—"
