He reached down through the water to his pocket, withdrew two old, rusty nails, and held them tightly. Deep in his chest, he felt the soft and curious rustling that meant They’d entered the cage room. God’s attentions were for those with souls, a status he’d lacked for a thousand years or more. Haven’t I paid enough? He prayed for Them to go back where They came from, but he didn’t expect an answer. Above the well, the howls fell away they’d lost the scent. How long had he been doing this? As long as he could remember. The water’s chilly touch crawled farther up his neck and he tightened his grip, looking up to the clear night sky. They’ll lose your scent in the stream and they’ll never find you here. He closed his eyes, concentrating on keeping his hold on the old well’s uneven sides, willing his heart to slow. Somewhere in the distance, the eerie wail of the hounds quickened his heartbeat. Long enough for his fingers to tire of holding his head above water. Long enough for the bone-cold water to drive the feeling from his legs. He didn’t know how long he’d been clinging there.
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