You Are Made of Iron

Chapter III pt. 3

​"I'm insane," she mouthed the words to herself, not daring to actually say them out loud, "completely bonkers. I have a wolf speaking in my head. I should be lying comfortably in a mental institute, not wasting away in a dungeon cell."
​You would like to think so, wouldn't you? Skersha was getting too much of a treat tormenting her, so Zeilla decided to try and focus on the problem of the coldening food. So much so, even, that she didn't notice Skersha appearing between her and the tray. Only when she looked up to see the man did she notice Skersha with a smirk on her face.
​Well, well, so you've learned how to tune me out. The realization of what she had just been doing shattered her effort.
​I'm s-s-sorry Skersha; it-it was an ac-accident, I swear! But Zeilla could feel when Skersha was angry and now was not one of those times, if anything she felt amused. Y-you're n-not angry? She asked the wolf.
​Not particularly, I don't really care if you can hear me or not. Anyway if I need to tell you anything I can just flair up your nervous system so you feel the worst pain imaginable. That should get your attention. Zeilla mentally reminded herself never to tune Skersha out again.
​The girl saw her plate of food getting cold and she realized that she would either have to grab it or risk the man taking it away. She decided to go for it. Zeilla slowly crawled to the edge of the shadows and counted to three in her head. One; the man wasn't looking. Two; she leaned back ready to snatch away the entire plate. Three; she reached out her hand with lightning speed. The man's head was turned away and yet...
​"Gotcha," he said. As soon as she'd reached for it, it seemed to her that he'd been ten times faster. Almost as if he'd briefly stopped time. He had grabbed her wrist and was now clutching it so hard she thought he might break it.
​"Please sir, stop!" Zeilla almost cried out but ended up just whimpering, "You're hurting my wrist!" He remained silent. Loosening his grip slightly, he pulled her into the light until she was nearly pressed against the bars. Zeilla squeezed her eyes shut instead of facing what she thought was inevitably coming.
​"Zeilla, I apologize for my rudeness. I had to make sure it was you. I actually found another girl by mistake before I saw Veinneias in front of your cell. I know how much she likes taunting you." He released her wrist and as she fell back onto her elbows she opened her eyes wide in surprise.
​"Ciar, is that y-you?" she asked him.
​He unlocked the cell door and entered. Somehow he always had the key. Zeilla knew that she could easily get out if he'd ever let her. He could easily stop her from escaping. So unless he allowed her, she'd still be captive despite the door being opened. Sadly, he was not going to do that any time soon. He replied while stepping in.
​"Yes, and again I'm sorry for waiting outside of your cell, things aren't exactly numbered down here. And the lighting is so poor that the only reason I found you when I did was because Veinneias was outside. The thing is though, I have something important to tell you." then he noticed her dire appearance: a black eye, a tangled mass of hair, and the skinny ribs jutting out of her chest from malnourishment. "But, err, it can wait a bit." Ciar sat down next to Zeilla, picked up a spoonful of eggs, and handed it to her. "Help yourself." Once the food was gone, he took out a brush from his jacket and handed it to her so that she could brush the tangles out of her hair.
​"Y-you h-had something to tell me, Ciar?"
​"Yes."
​"I... h-have something to ask you as well."
​He opened his mouth to speak, but Zeilla cut him off with her own question.
​"Ciar, you're a soldier, correct?"
​"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Zeilla, however, didn't consider his answer and blurted out her next question.
​"Well then how do you have all this time to spend with me?"
​Ciar was taken aback by this inquiry, "Do you not want me here, girl?"
​"N-no!" she stuttered, surprised, "t-that's n-n-not w-what I m-meant!"
​"Zeilla, even if you didn't want me here, I'm not going anywhere." Ciar rolled his eyes. "Actually, that's part of what I have to tell you about as well. The fact is, there are people who pay me to do what they say. And what they say is to protect you. They also ordered me to tell you about it today, as in, this specific date. They're some sort of special people who can see into the future or something, and prevent bad stuff from happening, so I imagine that they have some reason to keep you alive. You must be one important streetie." He laughed at his own untasteful joke before he saw a dismayed look on Zeillas face and asked her, "Is something troubling you, girl?"
​She decided not to beat around the bush and asked her question. "So... you're only bothered with me because it's your job, not because you actually care about me?"
​He smiled in an insincere, condescending way, "Exactly. I'm glad that we understand each other."
​She nodded. For some reason, she hadn't expected that. Oh well, what does it matter to me if one less person pretends to care about me?
​It's the thought that counts. Skersha teased.
​She sat there, thinking about these humans with special powers, and brushing her hair. Seeing into the future, now that's a skill that I'd like to have. She thought wistfully. Oh the gold I could make. I could buy my freedom from Silas! No, I could know when he would come and never have to see him again! But, of course, Skersha insisted on bursting her bubble of excitement.
​Who would give you a power like that? Aside from the fact that you're a streetie, your visions of power are so nearsighted, that they might as well give you thirteen gold pieces, for all the good it would do you. Knowing your luck, Zeilla, you would just end up winning too many games of poker, and get the stuffing beat out of you. That is, after they demanded their money back.
​Yeah, yeah, I know. It was just a jemmy fantasy though, Skersha. You don't have to be such a prick about it.
​Skersha's mood changed almost instantaneously, and she growled like the angry wolf she truly was. What did you just call me, child?