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... e words, he stormed out of the dungeon, his boots clicking eerily on the stone floor.

"Water," she whispered, her hands on her head. She stumbled up from a pile of hay, her clothes stuck to her body and her hair matted with sweat.

Her Master approached the bars of her cell. He passed her a pitcher of water. As soon as she wrapped her hands around the pitcher, he cracked the cane on her knuckles, sending her screaming to the floor.

"Not so soon, Tania," he hissed. "Not so ...

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“What is that supposed to mean?”

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