Willow’s teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, not from cold, but from anxiety. The small room she was locked inside of the tower was cold and drafty, but at least it was dry. In fact, it was quite comfortable compared the to the hell she had endured in the dungeons of Connor Keep. There was a pile of clean straw in the corner to insulate the prisoner from the cold floor, and there was a bucket in the opposite side for relieving oneself. The guard left her with a musty smelling blanket, but at least it was something to ward off the chill. There was one window, a mere six-inch slit high in the wall, but at least it let in a sliver of light and fresh air. She also noticed a few bats flying in as dusk began to fall, but she had no fear of creatures.
Only of men.
The guards left her a ta
