The breeze blowing through camp had several of the members scurrying for their tents, but you couldn’t be bothered, not to that degree. You were sat at one of the tables, slowly taking bites of a stew lacking in flavour, and, truly, you were feeling a bit miserable.

“How are you doing?” You heard a soft voice from beside you, and you already knew who it was, Charles. The effects of those days, those nights that you were locked away in that dungeon, surrounded by those O’Driscoll’s, they still haunted you. You had hardly spoken about it, you didn’t have the words to explain it all, so you kept it in. The gang was trying their best, but you were still suffering.