The last fortnight seemed to last a life time. Time must have gone on vacation to a nicer, brighter place, full of sunshine and the song of wind in the leaves. As for Vulpa, he could do nothing but sit in the frigid confines of his dirty hole of a prison cell, and wait for some sort of relief. The only interesting thing about the unforgiving space was the finger sized slit in the wall through which he could tell time. Besides that, the cell had nothing but a stale pile of straw. Vulpa had tried to keep himself busy, but found little he could do. He didn't even have enough space to properly exercise his svelte frame. All that he had was his thoughts, which, after he arrived here, had been anything but positive. He remembered every mistake, every clue that it was a trap. He had led 150 elves to their deaths. It was his fault that he was here. His naivete and bullheaded ambition had done this. The weakness in the enemy defenses had been too good to resist. Vulpa, the Apprentice to the Head Chieftain to all of Sylthea would have stopped the eternal conflict between the two nations and brought peace to the land. A grand, but stupid idea. Now the images of his tribes people dying, the sounds of steel tearing through leather, flesh, and bone, and the screams that came with it. 'Why was I such a fool? Head Chieftain Kava would never have fallen for such an easy trick. She is an actual leader, unlike me.' He cursed himself and curled into a little ball. The only possible salvation from this nightmare was in sleep where he sometimes dreamed of anything but what happened in the last fortnight. A noise came from down the echoing hallway. Vulpa couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed, but it was still dark, so it couldn't have been too long. The noise was too quiet to identify and could have just as easily been paranoia creeping in. Still, he waited and listened, and surely enough it came closer and he now knew it to be a voice and the clicking of footsteps on the stone floor. He tensed, scared that it might be the guards coming to take him some place worse. They had threatened as much, saying that any time now they would take him to the torture chambers and squeeze out bit of useful information he had. He took a deep breath and sat up, instinctively holding his long orange hair close to his chest. Vulpa closed his eyes, knowing that they would reflect the light of the torch and appear to glow. Its what happens when your spirit animal is nocturnal, like the red fox. He wanted as little attention brought to himself as possible.