At the end of a narrow corridor is a tiny room, formed entirely of earth. If not for the tangled network of roots holding the sides of the cavity together, it would likely have collapsed in on itself long ago. Adding to the sense of claustrophobia, standing upright here is nearly impossible. The gutted-out ends of candle stubs, along with the rotting strips of what may once have been blankets, testify that this shelter was at some point inhabited. Beneath you, the earth has been scraped out in a futile effort to make it seem less cramped. Even the air in this niche is stale, as if it has not been stirred for some time.
Jana is cobbling together one of the previously mocked chairs. She has dragged the wood away from the river so that she will not get as muddy… not that it would make much difference at this point.
Lanisen dozes uneasily in his now-usual spot half in the air-gap. He looks slightly worse-off than yesterday, and apparently is having just as much luck sleeping. He sits up and rubs his forehead, then picks up the mostly-full waterskin before peering out at Jana. “I can’t drink this…”
Jana tries a few pieces of wood as the third leg of the chair. “Throat muscles ain’t working?”
Lanisen grimaces and glances down at the waterskin. “It’s… /please/, Jana.”
Jana says, “Boss already thinks I’m going soft. He thinks I’m undermining him and the next thing I know I’m stuck in there with you.”
Lanisen pleads, “I won’t tell him!”
Jana finds a good piece and thrusts it firmly in the slot she’s created. Her voice is frank. “Don’t trust you.”
Lanisen’s voice is slightly desperate. “I won’t, I promise! Please…”
Jana says, “Don’t pester me.”