The Claith sat in the corner of the unoccupied bed of the cell, staring blankly ahead at the lapis surrounded bed of the cell. Her gaze had been resting there since two hours prior when she gave forced soup down her throat. Other prisoners would come and go, but she sat through the night and previous day, hiding in her shallow bunk.
Other prisoners who had been there when she'd arrived and stayed since she'd been would notice the odd Claith's pets- soft lilac butterflies. But has the hours ticked by they slowly seemed to diminish. By the next morning, they were all gone. So the Claith sat alone, more alone than she'd been since she was a seven year old outcast of her hamlet, hiding by the brook.
So the poor woman sat alone. For night and day and night again, she rested by herself. For two days, she'd have no one but herself in the crowded cell.
