The little hands and voices corral me deeper and deeper into this gloomy place, constantly bickering about all manner of nonsense along the way. They exchange greetings with many of the big ones we pass, exactly as they did at the entrance. Perhaps their smaller stature elevates them in the hierarchy here? It would only be logical, after all.

  “Oh right! You called her Teresa? She didn’t tell us her name or what she’s doing here. Why did you lie?” the Charles voice skeptically enquires.

  “I didn’t lie!” Sherrel voice quickly cuts back, defensively. “I just didn’t want trouble. She’s so scared, she might not’ve even spoken to Andrew. And she didn’t! So I gave her a new name. And every child looks for their parents. You are too, right Teresa?”

  One of the forceful, little hands suddenly squeezes my shoulder unexpectedly which causes me to jump again.

  “Gyah!” I yelp in a high, shrill, wavering tone, my throat tightly constricted from the constant tension and terror.

  “See?! I told you, Charles!”

  “You’re so stupid,” Charles voice mutters below his breath.

  How do I get out? How do I get away from these flawed, broken, awful little ones? This one won’t take his hands off me. He hasn’t let go once since he first pounced. However, rather than consuming his prize, he’s insisting on heartlessly toying with his food. They did say they were taking me to eat, no?

  A musty creaking sound serenades us for a moment before I’m forcefully shuffled inside some indecipherable structure. With my head still glued down towards the ground, I can’t tell who else is in here. At least it’s much quieter than outside. There were so many out there! I hadn’t understood that the big ones had their own hoards. This is bad. If I manage to get out, then I must get back somehow to warn the others.

  “You can sit here,” the Sherrel voice cheerily mocks, shoving me down to sit on some intricately cut wood piece.

  Taken by surprise by the push, my legs briefly buckle and expose themselves as I fall onto my rear. However, I desperately pull them up to my chest and under the cloak so fast that I don’t think that anyone noticed. They truly have me shackled like this.

  “We don’t have much, but we do have rice for porridge,” the Sherrel voice continues, now sounding busy with some kind of loud clanking and shifting of things..

  “Ugh, it’s plain again? I thought dad brought back some bacon to throw in?” Charles voice complains.

  “He said he had to sell it all.”

  “Again?”

  The Sherrel voice firmly quiets in response, finally ceasing its incessant prattling for the first time. Realizing that both the faulty ones have moved over to the same area on the other side of the room, I risk slightly turning and lifting my head up to take a look around me.

  There’s so much of this bizarrely shaped wood everywhere. Also, many more flavors of the weak skins as well. What in the world is this strange place? And it’s so damned clean! Disgusting. Horrifying! How can they hope to stay healthy here? Barbarians. Monsters!

  Having found some scant stability, I start appraising everything, starting with the contraption where they bound me.

  Nonsense. Next.

  More utter worthlessness.

  Books?! I almost shout in shock at the brazen presentation of such valuable treasure out in the open. My eyes focus and zoom in on the details of the tall apparatus holding the books. There’s many introductions explicitly mentioning being for these children things. Topics on collecting, mixing, athletics, and cooking rest on a shelf easily within my reach if I can somehow make it over there.

  Next to this bookshelf appears to be the now barricaded opening where we entered, and right next to that leans:

  Another big metal like the young one had. Is that what they’ll use to butcher me? Why would they leave it so far away? Are they so confident that they can overcome my pitiful, meager resistance?

  “Here you go,” the Sherrel voice cries out in ambush, clanking something down onto the table in front of me.

  Shrinking down and clasping my knees more tightly to my chest, I lay my still turned head tightly against my shoulder to safely assure my face is properly hidden from view.

  “It’s ok! It’s ok! Don’t be sad!” Sherrel voice calls out in contemptuous concern. “Is it because I mentioned your parents? Are you an orphan?”

  Sitting in silence, I begin manically rocking back and forth, furiously trying to think of a way out before they end me. What should I do? What can I do?

  “Sherrel,” Charles voice returns. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I don’t think she’s hungry. Maybe we give her the bed and let her rest? Later we’ll eat, when she’s ready.”

  You’ll eat what, you cruel oaf?! I’ll fight! I’ll resist! I’ll win! Muscles wincing so hard in righteous anger, a few muddy tears stream down from my face, dripping onto the floor.

  The little hands return to nudge me free from the chair, escorting over to a frilly pile of the weak skins in the corner. Once close enough, I risk a short glance up at my doom.

  This is the contraption he mentioned. What does it do? The hands gently knock me over into the soft bed, and again I’m forced to pull my knees up to my chest as fast as I’m able. Rolling to face away from the two, I pull the cloak around me as tightly as possible to cover everything. This weak, thin thing is really all that stands between me and oblivion. This wonderful, precious savior.

  “We’ll leave you alone for a while, Teresa,” Sherrel voice coos. “We’ll have the food later. Sleep tight!”

  Then the shuffling of tiny feet move away as the same creaking re-sounds. Then, complete silence. After waiting a painfully long time for some new consequence to arise, nothing happens. They actually left, as they said. Did the fools really leave me alone and unbound in their inner refuge? Alone with all these easy, obvious treasures scattered about. I suppose a proud dragon can’t imagine its prisoners capable of stealing from it.

  First I roll back over to face the room and risk scanning for traps. Nothing. No more creatures, big or small. No movement. No eyes, no ears. I scramble out of the bed, keeping myself low to the ground. After finally getting a good look at the entire room, it’s so busy! So much clutter and junk. They live here like this?

  No, no, I simply don’t understand what most of these trinkets are. Really, it’s all potential opportunity for more treasure. Perhaps this awful tragedy has truly transformed into my advantage? Two distinguished and revered figures amongst the big ones must maintain quite the interesting stockpile. They’ll regret taking their captive meal so unseriously. Their playtime is over and my plunder begins!