“Please! I’ll work for the slaves back. I promise!” As the boy cried out, the stench of warm piss saturated the begotten dungeons. Centuries of dust and ash littered the air, and of the weary blue eyes of his captive. Ribs had punctuated the hunger that be fallen the young servant. Flapping unnourished fat lay tasteless for any sort of meal.

“Like a rat, you’ve dug into more sewers until none of my pets had find you appetizing,” he lulled to the boy.

“I did nothing wrong! I told you. He had hired for the delivery but those dark knights were so fast they—what was that?” the boy stilled. The sound of heavy-set chains dragging the stone floor drained the blood on his face.

Tapping the cold bars that had separated him from the rat, he smiled as the deep growl from an unknown beast inside the cell pulled what was left of the boy’s courage. The boy struggled to stand and leaned to every possible escape vermin can find when trapped. His shuffling cries sang with the slid of its claws towards him.

“So, I’m giving you to my sister. She’s not picky. Enjoy your dinner.” Not dallying for more than a few hairs’ breath, he escaped the fiery berth of dragon fire as it lit the dark interior of his new home. The shrieking of the burnt mellowed the lungs of the dragon’s hearth.

Wilremma still had humanity, he supposed. Makes it more entertaining as she again flamed her half-cooked feast. Instinct not taking kindly to empathy.