The Dragon and the Fox

The prisoner was getting tired of the prison.

She didn’t know how long she had been down there, but she knew it was too long. Much, much too long.

If she concentrated, she remembered inklings of memories from above on the surface. Sunshine. Wind. Grass.

But they all seemed like a dream.

This was reality. This dark, cold place, where nothing happy ever reached. It was the only reality that the prisoner could truly remember.

The shackles around her furry forearms clinked loudly in the usual silence. The prisoner had gotten used to the stillness in the air by now. It filled her lungs, choking out any words she could ever say to keep her sanity, which was long gone. It wrapped around her brain, constricting tighter and tighter until she couldn’t think or hear. It was the phantom that followed her, not making a sound, and yet still present. It made her question whether she was still alive or dead.

Except, there was less silence now. She didn’t know where exactly they had put the new prisoner, but she could hear the talking.

She’d done it at first, too. She’d thought that it would help, and that it would give her hope. All it gave her was the biggest sense of being alone. No one was coming for her. No one even knew that she was alive.

Well, the new prisoner did.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the prisoner could finally put her plan together.

She’d been thinking about it, pondering, editing and re-thinking it, over and over again.

Is it ready? she thought, one of her first conscious thoughts in many eclipses. It’s ready. Is it ready? I think it is. Is it? It is. She let out a giggle at her own scattered mind. The plan. Ready. How long? Time. Time. Is it ready? The plan. It is.

She was about to go through it in her mind, trying to find the threads of thought she had managed to string together over the eclipses, when the new prisoner spoke.

“I know you’re there,” the melodious voice called. The prisoner lost concentration, and the bits of her plan disappeared. She glared in the voice’s direction, choosing not to respond.

“Why did you speak to me before, if you won’t talk now?” the new prisoner asked.

She said nothing.

“Please.” The voice had dropped to a whisper now.

The prisoner’s furry ears flicked, but she sat still. Her heart longed to make contact, to talk and talk to this new entity that had entered her world, but she could not express such weakness. If she wanted her plan to work, she had to stay strong.

Why are they here? her thoughts asked, drifting once again into a dark whirlpool. Who are they?

Is it ready?

Darkness.

They told me not to run.

They told me they would kill them.

Where are they?

I will kill him.

Is it ready?

How long have I been down here?

They will come for me.

I am all alone.

It is.

The plan.

Why?

It’s a maze. A maze of madness.

I won’t ever get out.

The items. The items on the wall. Swim, cut, breathe, hang.

Focus, the one sane part of her hissed. The plan. The plan. It is ready.

She searched once again, and this time she found what she was looking for. She gleefully put it together, giggling madly. It would work. She knew it.

Now all she had to do was wait.