The scent of blood laced with a hint of fear clung to the stale air of the prison. I’d smelled her blood before, as well as her fear, so I knew both belonged to the hunter. Dark blotches that hadn’t been there before my departure painted a messy mural on the weathered stone walls and floor, the source of the smell.
Her cell door was unlocked. As I stepped in, my eyes took in the scene, searching for any clues on what could have possibly happened. There was evidence of a scuffle from how the dried blood had smudged. Someone, the hunter most likely, had been dragged over the floor, through her own blood.
My head spun with a sudden rush of emotions and I had to grip the bars of the cell to keep from staggering. Calm down, Elias. You’re not a child anymore. Get a grip on yourself. Calm down
