From up above came a mournful howl. Prudence looked up to see a pair of yellow eyes glaring at her. The beast had found her, but it wasn't stupid enough to join her in the hole. The dog snarled at her and snapped its jaws as if to remind her of what awaited her if she could find a way out of the hole. Then the dog loped off, probably to find somewhere dry to wait out the storm.
Prudence envied the dog for that. While the pit gave her some protection from the rain, rivulets of water still found their way in. She did what she could to avoid them, but she didn't have much room to maneuver.
She finally curled up against one side of the pit and began to sob. She would die here, just like that other child long ago. She continued to sob until she fell asleep.
***
Today is her anniversary. As Prudence marks the tally on the cave wall, she knows without looking that the marks add up to six years. Six years since Reverend Crane locked her away in this underground chamber. Six years since she last saw the sun. Six years without speaking to another human being. Six years of living in almost-constant darkness, listening to the rumbling of her stomach, the rushing water of the river, and the screeching of the bats living in the caverns.
Mr. Pryde comes down the long passage to her cell twice a day. She huddles in a corner when she hears the door open and his boots echoing along the corridor. Sometimes he brings one or more of his dogs; other times he comes alone. He always carries a wooden bucket, the "slop bucket" as he calls it.
He feeds her like a pig, dumping the bucket into a pot on the floor. What the bucket contains varies from day to day. Most times there's a bit of cold gruel, sometimes mixed with fatty pieces of meat or stale bread. She wants to refuse the horrible food, but the growling of her stomach always prods her to lift the pot to her lips. Pryde laughs and scratches her behind the ear like one of his beasts. "Good piggy," he says.
As she listens to his footsteps retreat down the passageway and the door slam shut, tears come to her face at what she's become. She is no better than an animal. The bats in the caverns have more dignity than her.
She throws herself onto the pallet to sleep. Only in her dreams can she escape this wretched place for even a few minutes. She often dreams of green fields beneath a blue sky. Wind ruffles her waist-length copper hair and brings the scent of wildflowers to her nose. She runs and runs through the field until she's so tired, she collapses into the soft grass.