In the wind, the old run-down house creaked. It was a tiny shack, barely the size of a house. It had only one room, no windows, and so many holes in the walls that it did nothing to keep the cold nights of autumn out.
Justin's guards easily parted to let him pass. They stood motionless near the front and back doors.
He took a cautious step onto the small porch. Under his weight, the wood creaked, and he braced himself in case the old wood snapped clean through. As a door, a thin bed sheet, now tanned with dust, was used. He was followed into the makeshift prison by a guard. For his own safety, he stayed close to Justin. Justin walked into the room.
The room was empty. Any remaining furniture had long since been removed for the prisoner's confinement. Every surface was covered in dus
