When the carriage shook he had been sleeping.
He snapped awake, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. For a disorienting second, he blinked into the gloom, wondering if he was still dreaming. But no dream was this cramped, and no dream smelled so strongly of dry grain.
He tried to stretch, but it was a pathetic effort. He had been curled in a ball for so long that his limbs felt like rusted hinges. He had lost track of the hours, but he guessed it was the second day. Or was it the third? He'd slept, so that was something. Maybe nine hours? Ten? Time didn't move in here; or if it did it was in his mind.
Maybe not even two had passed...
"Two days," he whispered to the dark, his voice sounding raspy and strange in the small space. "Just two days and then I'm out. No, three.'' The cart jolted up ''Better make it three. Can't have them catching me the moment I pop my head out like a gooes''
