The Prisoner

12

fled. He hadn ’ t made it very far when the baker, who had gained the attention of the guards that

had been patrolling outside the blacksmith ’ s, gripped his shoulder and yanked him back. He fell,

landing on his rear before he was roughly picked up by the guards and taken here. From what the

baker had yelled, that bread had been meant for the castle, though Kai doubted that, knowing that

kings could afford to have their own kitchens and cooks and dough makers.

Kai shook his head. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with the present: the same stale

odor of unkempt people, the occasional whimper of those who found sleep, and the storm ’ s

eternal tantrum. He hoped the rain would stop soon, though another part prayed it went on for a

little while longer. He liked the surprise of guessing when the lightning would strike and the

trumpet of thunder. It became a game for him, something to keep his mind occupied, besides

reliving the past. It broke up the time and keep him from screaming in the night like the man

across the way from him.

Kai continued to count the breaths between the flashing lights and the low rumbling of

the thunder until his eyes drooped and the sky brightened with the rise of the sun behind the

gloomy clouds.