Two meals a day, lots of new friends, clean clothes—all things she hadn’t had at home. Then again, and again. Before I could give the order, the beating of drums floated up from the town.An alarm? She had been locked away as the days warmed and the first harvest day approached. The crowd parted to let a small group through; an elder or shaman of some sort wielding a staff, followed by a cloaked figure flanked by two white-clad women. Tears rolled down her cheeks, more out of shame than fear. Some sort of royal visit? The Gods love blood sacrifice, and I would be remiss in denying them this one. She beheld the slithering blanket of coiled, rubbery innards that completely hid her feet and covered the bowls and deck, the blood dripping down between the wooden floorboards. The agonizing pain brought a scream of pain which echoed up and down the still-silent square.
