[b]Miriam
Chapter 6: The Caged Nightingale  [/b]

The bars of the cell were made out of wood. It was the third one down the corridor of holding cells, crampt enough to feel claustrophobic  while still being wide enough to pace impatiently in. Miriam sat in one corner against the wall, staring dryly out from beneath her messy drapes of damp hair. She had an ache in her stomach and a hollowing sensation in her chest. She thudded her forehead against her propped up knees and groaned in frustration. So far, isolation had not helped with her dampened spirits. Suddenly, she heard a voice from her left, from one of the cells she had passed on the way in. 
	"Well. That could have gone better." Miriam raised her head and peered towards the voice. A face smiled through the bars, looking back at her with anticipated recognition. Miriam blinked in a short moment of surprise, but responded with a tired sigh. Silence fell as Miriam did not respond, instead, she burrowed her face against her legs again and ignored the voice completely. There was no need for it, however, as it said nothing more.

Miriam did not count her wallowing time in the cell, it could have been nothing more than an hour so far. But to her it felt as if she was drowning for eternity. Eventually the doors of the holding opened and the metal clanking of boots could be heard walking down the corridor. Before long it stopped and a new voice spoke up, from outside Miriam's cell. 
	"Good evening." Miriam looked up and saw the outline of a man outside of her cage. He was blocking the source of light so his face was hidden in shadow. The man cleared his throat and sat down on the bench on the other side of the narrow corridor, he adjusted his sword and placed it on his right. 
	"My name is Arthur." He said, as an invitation to the conversation. With the light unblocked Miriam could see his face. It was rough and weathered, the man's eyes spoke of loss and sorrow but his mouth held an indifferent smile.
	"Well. Screw you, Arthur." Miriam mumbled back, not moving from her spot in the corner. This bought another moment of silence. Until Arthur spoke again.
	"And you're Miriam. No?" Miriam flicked her gaze up more alert now. She hadn't shared her name with anyone but Walter. She glanced briefly to her left into the other cell but there was nothing there but darkness to be seen. Miriam looked back at Arthur and pursed her lips firmly. The less she said, the better.
	"It says so here, at least." Arthur had gotten up from the bench, and from a pocket he produced a small leather bound book. "Journal of Miriam's marsh?" He read off the title. "Interesting read." Arthur did not seem ironic, the man had squatted next to the cell and now looked at Miriam. "What were you doing out there, Miriam?" He inquired calmly. Miriam sighed in defeat. He could get the information from out of that book, anyway. 
	"I gather things from the wilds and I sell them to people, and I was only in that cabin to avoid the storm. Really, that's all there is to it." Miriam looked at Arthur as she spoke. "What did they do with Leia?" She added glumly. The knight quirked a smile and made some sort of gesture towards the entryway. There was the creaking of a door opening and then the familiar scampering of rushed paws. Miriam dragged herself to the bars of the cells and arrived at the same time as her shaggy companion. "Leia!" She burst out, stretching her arms out through the gaps of her wooden bars to embrace the dog's head lovingly. It was met by a jolly bark and unrelenting face licking as the dog could not find its way into the cell. Miriam pressed her face against the fur of her friend and murmured her thanks to the universe.

Later; Arthur had resumed his spot on the bench, Leia sat next to him, enjoying the casual pet from the knight. He looked to Miriam where she sat inside of her cell, her journal lay on his lap, open to the middle pages.
	"Who taught you to read, Miriam? To write?" He inquired conversationally.
	"I taught myself?" Miriam retorted with a poor bluff.
	"I sincerely doubt that."
	"Does it matter?" Miriam knew the answer already.
	"It does. Was it this ghost I've been told so much about? He... teaches you?" Miriam crossed her arms and huffed a breath at her hair. "No. And I will tell you the same as the others. There wasn't a ghost. Some guy that said he was a scout, he went away before you arrived at the house. Just some guy." She looked towards the dark cell to her left in a moment of forethought, Arthur caught the glance and trailed it, before looking back at Miriam.
	"Walter?" Arthur rose an eyebrow.
	"Yes. Walter." 
	"You'll admit, this all seems a bit odd, right?"
	"Fine. It does, but it hardly means I'm a witch." Arthur scratched Leia behind the ear calmly while humming mutely in thought. "No, it really does not. The men can get... superstitious, at times."
	"So, are you going to let me out?" Miriam perked her head up alongside her hopes.
	"You are a very peculiar young woman, Miriam." Arthur said as he tossed the book into the cell casually. "But you're not a witch."