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The tall black haired man paced back and forth like a caged lion. A shaggy mane of dark hair fell about his face in a curly, unbrushed tangle, concealing his rich golden eyes as he stalked to and fro infront of the steel bars. Six days. Six days they had kept him here, and still he’d only seen them once.
His stomach rumbled its protests to the fact he hadn’t eaten in all that time, but he ignored it, letting his head swing from side to side, looking down the halls on either side of his cell. His wasn’t cell here, but at the moment it was the only one occupied by someone living. He knew he was the only one living because of stench that came from the other cells, the stench of death… Not the stench of the dead that walked, but the reek of true death, of something that would never walk the light of day or not again.
“Argh!”
He suddenly let out a furious roar and hurled himself against the bars on the front of his cell, grunting as he slammed into the hard steel and wrapping his fingers around the cold poles, yanking as hard as he could. Had it been normal metal, it surely would have buckled under his weight, but soon after he’d come here he’d discovered it was no ordinary substance.
He snarled as he failed to even move the bars and slammed against them again, before hissing in irritation and beginning his angry pacing once more, his bare feet sore from padding across the rough floor.
He’d stopped caring about that five days ago.
The man, or rather the werewolf, for that’s what he was, found himself pacing until he exhausted himself and he grumbled as he let himself collapse on his *** on the small cot in the corner of his cell, although calling it a ‘cot’ may have been an over-exaggeration. It was merely a large folded up blanket that had been tossed in the corner, but it was better then nothing.