The screams had stopped hours ago.
Now, there was only the wind hissing through the gaps in the wooden bars and the wet, ragged sound of Thomas trying to breathe through a chest full of broken ribs.
Marcus sat with his back against the rough timber, his knees pulled to his chest.
He had torn the rest of his sleeve to bind Thomas's ribs, doing his best to stabilize the man with the limited first-aid knowledge he retained from Earth.
It wasn't enough.
Thomas was pale, his skin clammy, his eyes fixed on the cage door with a desperation that was painful to witness.
The sun had long since dipped below the treeline, plunging the forest into a suffocating darkness broken only by the campfire flickering near the bandit tents.
Then, the sound of footsteps. Heavy boots crunching on dry leaves.
The cage went deathly silent. Even the onion man stopped his muttering prayers.
The lock rattled. The chain fell away with a heavy clank.
