Ashley stepped forward and quickly snatched up the paper, her fingers closing around it just as a sudden clatter broke the silence. A nearby prisoner had stirred awake, eyes fixed on her, the brief stillness shattering as the realization set in.
"Hey... hey! Are you here to save people? Take me with you!" the man rasped, his voice frayed with desperation. He was gaunt and filthy, his body a ruin of torn flesh and healing wounds, some already festering, the marks unmistakable.
Ashley knew at a glance that a silver whip had done this. He staggered forward and clutched the bars, dragging himself closer just to see her face, and only then did she notice his hands, his nails ripped clean out, the raw beds left to throb and bleed. His wolf was too depleted to heal him; it had nothing left to give.
Misery clung to him so completely that it sent a chill through her, forcing her to imagine, with dread, what her mother might have become in a place like this.
