He woke up cold, lips frostbitten and fingertips numb. His head pounded as he hauled a heavy body off the floor, just barely lifting his chest.
Looking around, nothing, in particular, struck him. Whatever room he was in had no windows, it was made completely of stone, he could feel the divets mark his skin as his legs lay useless. The ground was wet, an ambient dripping from a few feet away rang in his ears. Every time he inhaled, he almost gagged, the scent of rot and mould flooding his senses. The shackles chain around his ankles were coated in a red substance, and he was unsure as to if was rust or dried blood from where the metal sliced his skin. Squinting, he laid eyes upon a figure in the dark, body turned on its side, facing away from him,
"Hey-" he croaked, legs pushing himself across the stone,
"Listen, hey-", he grabbed the figure's shoulder and turned it towards him.
It was the eyes that hit him first.
They were glossed over and empty, almost akin to those of a dead bird. The mouth made him feel the sickest, though. His jaw was locked open and his tongue sat far back in his mouth, blocking a view of his throat. His teeth were coated with a thick dried liquid that ran down his chin and dripped onto his muddied shirt.
He kicked the body away in what could only be described as primal fear, his legs suddenly working as he scrambled to stand and run, falling aimlessly each time. He managed to gets as far as his shackles would let him before he stopped squirming, but his blown eyes never left the figure. He spent the next hour huddled in a ball, trying to preserve as much body heat as he could, before an abrupt light assaulted his eyes. Now with the room dimly lit, he could see a large spiral staircase in front of him, along with the small figure that traversed it.
"You're awake?"
She spoke, shining a lantern in his eyes.
"You're George, yes?"
"Whos asking?" he growled, shielding his eyes,
"Me," she pulled a face, "I'm asking."
"Who are you?"
"Shima," She nodded, "I've come to get you out, but first, I have a few questions."
She stepped towards him and rolled his face between her fingers,
"You smell different, you don't smell like us."
"Huh?"
She gestured to the mushroom sat at the tip of her skull,
"We have special scent glands, lets others know were not some sort of disguise preditor," she paused, "You don't have them."
He shakes his head, "No, Im not one of you, I don't even know who 'you' are."
She smirks,
"So you're a mutt, huh?"
H scrunches his face in a mixture of offence and confusion, "Excuse me-"
She grabs a chunk of his hair and lifts him up. Her fingers slowly dance across his scalp before settling on the smallest of his three mushroom. Without a word of consent, she plucked it from his head, dropping his immediately after. He hit the floor with a dull thump, before the realisation of what had happened hit him.
"HEY!" he screamed, thrasing a bit as she slowly backed away, "GIVE THAT BACK!"
"Calm you tits, it'll grow back," she shrugged, "If you really are one of us."
He took a few deep breaths before meeting her eyes one more time,
"Where's Chris?"
"Oh, the kid? He's upstairs eating the villages supply of apples, and soon, he'll be returned to his parents."
"His parent live with me, I'll take him back and we can pretend this never happened, I wont tell anyone."
She shook her head,
"No, his real parents live down the stream, he's going home."
.jpeg)
