Fifty Eight

                   Silver chains dug into his wrist, irritating the already open skin. Pain shot through his hands, spreading down to other parts of his body. His wolf was angry but too week to do anything. Reed concentrated on not moving so as not to worsen the wounds but it was hard because his hands were supporting his dangling body. A body that was battered and in dire need of water. Food was a luxury he didn't dare think about. He attributed his weakness to the poison he'd accidentally injested. Even though it had been neutralized, he hadn't had time to recover before they were attacked again. Although the second time, the rebels had gone there for him. They were like parasites. Cut off a head and another one grew in its place. He couldn't blame anyone but himself for the predicament her was in. 

Why he'd trusted a madman was beyond him. Indrik had swooped in, saved them, only to flee during the second attack. His e