Wake of the Dead | Three

Chapter Six | Jasper

Three days. One day had been too long already. But now it was just beginning to sink in for Jasper, just how long it might take him to leave this place. The previous night he'd paid close attention to what time everybody went to sleep, when patrols usually made their rounds around the camp and who was in them. The problem was, it was unpredictable. Maybe there was a pattern he wasn't seeing, but if there wasn't one at all, he'd need to constantly be on the lookout for an opportunity. The first thing he had to figure out though...how much time he had left. How long were they going to torture him before they got bored and killed him--mostly likely in the slowest, most painful way possible. He couldn't help but wonder how they'd do it. They didn't want him dead, they wanted him to pay. Maybe they'd toss him out to some biters and let him be eaten alive.

The days had began to warm on and off, the transition from winter and fall to spring and summer was an unpredictable process, Jasper was beginning to learn. How long it would take before the temperature reached an equilibrium, he wasn't sure. That morning as the sun raised into the sky, it was already burning. If I stay in one place for too long I'll definitely get sunburn. But it isn't as if they'd care anyways. Birdsong flittered through the air as the sky began to lighten and clouds became clearer. The horses tied to the posts a few yards away were shifting awake. Most had fallen asleep on the ground, but the stallion had slept on his hooves--if he'd even slept at all. You must be tired, big guy. But I guess sleeping isn't the top of the list of our priorities, huh?

Jasper knit his brows together as he noticed a faint glowing emanating from a metal rod across the camp. Luke was holding it above a fire, specifically one part--the end, where the metal had been flattened out and carved into a specific shape. He glanced towards the horses, his heart aching. Could The Silence tag the animals instead, or even paint them? Why was branding their go-to option? Even more curious, why would they feel the need to brand the horses? It wasn't as if the massive animals couldn't be captured one way or another if they escaped. Perhaps it was for other groups, who'd know who to return them to. That only made him more sympathetic. The poor things definitely weren't treated as well as they should be. Making them stand in one place with no exercise would eventually lead to serious complications. He silently hoped they'd be needed soon.

The camp began to stir to life. People were beginning to emerge from their various shelters—some were tents and others were makeshift bunkers—stretching and waking themselves up for the day. Mistress Thalia made her way across the camp, heading straight towards Jasper. He narrowed his eyes, arms tensing and hands gripping onto the heavy chains that held him still. There was a man following beside her, one Jasper was very much acquainted with. "Cohen." He spat.

"Jasper." The doctor's reply was much calmer, but Jasper didn't miss the contempt in the other man's voice. He looks better than when he left. Unfortunate. Cohen's long black hair had been cut short again, those shockingly bright eyes boring into Jasper's. A sardonic smile crossed Cohen's lips. "It's been a few weeks since I last saw you and," He paused for emphasis, "Well, you aren't looking so good."

"That tends to happen when you're tortured for a bit." Jasper replied dryly.

The Mistress chuckled, shaking her head. "You think this is torture my child? No. This is nowhere near what we're going to do. We haven't even scratched the surface."

"Then hurry up," Jasper retorted. "I'm getting bored, so how about we speed up this whole process?" The Mistress narrowed her brows, but said nothing else to him. Instead, she turned her attention to Minora and the girl Jasper had talked to the previous day, the younger one he'd gotten into trouble. They were approaching quickly, it was soon becoming crowded. Jasper's stomach squirmed uncomfortably with all four people looming over him with nefarious intent, but he couldn't afford to show it. He gripped onto the chains harder so they wouldn't see his shaking hands.