Around the burning hearth of that room, the three sat; a dwarf, a boy, and a man. The fire cracked from a wet log as they gathered heat from the flames. The night was chilly, and the moon drizzled thin white light through the window.
The room had two beds, one for the dwarf and one for the man, while the boy slept on the floor. It was enough for him to sleep without the smell of piss and shit and without hearing the wailing of a child.
"It's been nearly four days now," Nibur grunted. "When are they gonna come?"
Jeremiah was also getting tired of cooping in that room. "We wait till they come," he said and fed another piece of wood to the fire.
"I am getting tired of this place," Nibur stood up. "Every day – when I walk out from here, those idiots look at me, like I am some kind of freak. Like being taller makes them better." He jabbed a finger at himself. "I am a proud dwarf. These people can't possibly know what I am capable of."
