Fevered Shadows
The chilled air bit sharply at the thin, damp dress that clung to the young woman’s skin. The small amount of hay that was thrown carelessly on the cold stone floor offered her little warmth. Her body convulsed as she rubbed her hands weakly against her arms. It had been a week since she arrived in the prison, and three days since the fever settled in. Those few days were a cluster of hazy nightmares that morphed into reality. The monstrous winged creature with black beady eyes and grotesque teeth would transform into the guardsmen that would toss stale bread in her cell every other evening. The short troll with spindly fingernails and patchy, greasy hair would become the floorman that would patrol the cells late at night. His shrill voice echoed through the dark corridor as he hissed and berated the frightened women, those he only referred to, venomously, as witch.