The Dungeon

Aila's eyes flicked open, feeling well-rested after her sleep and finding her room in complete darkness. But with her heightened senses, she could still see everything clearly in the shadows. She sat up and stretched her arms above her head before sliding out of bed and clapping her hands. 

The chandelier switched on to the low mood lighting Aila clapped it onto. With a sigh, she stared down at her bloodied clothes and stormed back through to the bathroom. It was a given that her clothes would either be dry cleaned or simply thrown away; there always seemed to be a never-ending choice of high-quality garments to choose from. Aila felt more refreshed under the cold shower and started her nightly ritual of staring and speaking to her wolf in the mirror with her damp hair drying behind her.

"They were hunters," Malia commented. "Nobody is innocent there."