A Visit To The Dungeon

Ten days.

Ten days that Ryder had gone without food, water, or proper rest. He'd been standing in his cell, and now, he could feel his body beginning to shut down. His legs trembled beneath him, his vision blurring at the edges.

The subtle dry air, announcing the coming of winter didn't help matters, as Ryder could feel his throat growing drier, his lips cracking from the cold in the dungeon. His tongue felt like sandpaper, and every breath he took burned his parched throat. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too

Ryder shook his head to clear his dizziness, causing his head to spin, as he swayed and held the wall for support.

He, Alpha Snow of the Dark Snow Pack, had been reduced to this: a weakened, starving, and parched prisoner, locked away in a cold dungeon.

The irony was not lost on him. But he wasn't angry. Instead, he chuckled to himself, a low, husky sound that was almost a growl.