Miranda sits in her cell quietly, she stares at the jug of water and bread, and then looks towards the door at the top of the stairs that separates the jail, and the offices.
She touches her neck gingerly where the silver barb in the collar poked at her when she moved or fought against it. She winces in pain slightly, her wolf not able to heal against silver poison quickly.
“Celeste? Are you there anymore?” She asks mentally trying to call her wolf. She waits, and then sighs before exhaling loudly.
“I guess I am on my own now.” She mumbles picking up the bread and breaks off a chunk. She eats, as if it was the fanciest of gourmet dishes. She swallows, and reaches for the water, warm but wet. She takes a long drink, gulping the water greedily.
“This must be what the mutt felt like.”
