Mercy Hall
The rope bites into her flesh. At this point, Mercy's not complaining. Hell, she'd rather deal with braided hemp than steel shackles on any given day. Pulling against the restraints, she rubs the skin on her wrists raw.
Escape. It's the singular thought on her mind, as well as finding her brother.
Scooting to the middle of the bed, she wiggles closer to the tied rope. Carefully, she bites at the knot, pulling on it. The fibers give a bit but not enough.
A squeak echoes in the room.
She draws in a deep breath, and a familiar scent fills her nose.
"Meelo. You're a resourceful bandit, aren't you?" The pouch on her hip has a hole chewed in it. "Come here, my little fur ball."
The polecat scampers across a fireplace hearth then waddles on the floor.
She loses sight of the critter, but Meelo's soft chirps announce his impending approach.