Chapter Eight
They settled into aroutine.
More accurately, Sebastian’s routine flooded over them, swamping them in what he wanted, and they tried to adjust and stay sane under the pressure.
Gradually, Sebastian got used to his newest and shiniest acquisition, and he stopped finding Iz endlessly entertaining. He left them alone for longer periods of time. For the most part, Iz liked that. As far as she was concerned, the less they saw of Sebastian, the better.
But when he was bored with them, he had no reason to come down every day and light the lanterns and candles that lined the stone walls. They were left in musty, pitch-black darkness, day-in and day-out. Their food (still cooked) came in through small chutes built into their cells. Iz couldn’t be sure, but she thought the timing of the food delivery was random.
There was no way to tell night from day. There was just the darkness, the animals, and Logan.
He was the one ray of light she could cling to. She didn’t know what she would have done without him, and she had no earthly idea how he had survived with no one down here for company.
If she hadn’t had him, if she’d hadno oneto talk to, would she have held it together as long as he had? She didn’t think so.
Now that she thought about it, even being trapped here with someonebesidesLogan wouldn’t have been much help, because she wouldn’t have been able to talk to them. Not without Logan’s hellhound telepathy.
Even if she had been able to talk to them, they wouldn’t have been Logan—brave, steady, funny, kind Logan who barked just to cheer her up and agreed to co-raise fluffalo with her.
They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. They told each other everything, all about their lives up until now, and Iz practically held her breath while Logan struggled through unearthing memories he hadn’t touched in a long time.
No matter what she told him, he always seemed to believe that she was going to think less of him for having trouble making conversation after months trapped down here alone. She couldn’t imagine anything further from the truth. The fact that he’d been through all that and had still pulled himself together to comfort her and keep her company was incredible.
She wanted to hear all about him, and she didn’t care at all whether or not he told her with literal words.
>
Iz could pick up on the lingering joy in the image. >
>
> Iz said, hoping he could hear the smile in her voice.
>
>
>
>
>
She’d asked the wrong question, and she knew it as soon as she heard how lost he sounded.
Communing with him like this, their minds resting side-by-side, images and conversation easily passing back and forth between them, she had just ... temporarily forgotten the situation they were both stuck in.
They were buried alive, and she had made him remember how much he loved fresh air and wide open spaces.
Nice going, Iz.
Logan, being Logan, tried to shift it so that they weren’t focused on him:
>
If she could distract him at all, she certainly wanted to.
> She did her best to send him a mental picture of it.