The trickling sound of running water was the only sound which accompanied my breathing in the grotto. Shade was as quiet as her name suggested, she was like a ghost. She barely moved and rarely made a sound.
"Be still," she said.
With the exception of her cold scolding. I was being still; I just wasn't a statue like her. My legs were crossed underneath me as I studied the stalactites above us. They were all different sizes, shapes and the water which formed them glistened on their surface before it finally collected at the tip and dripped.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"You are practising being still – do not ask questions now."
"So old you're embarrassed then."
I couldn't goad her. She was born a slave and lived as one for centuries and when she escaped she stopped running - she gave herself into servitude again. And I thought my history was sad.