The past is a foreign country;
They do things differently there.
~ L.P. Hartley
***
The first thing Ravenna heard was the sharp sound of rattling bars and the sense of the callous weather that followed suit, as she lifted her arm to block the sudden faint illumination where someone stood framed in the flickering torchlight.
It seemed like the person who walked in was aware of her consciousness, and she heard a few distant voices. When the door fully unlocked and yanked open, her body shrank due to the gust of cold that bit sharper than the dungeon air and she shivered, bringing her knees to her chest.
It all felt like a dream. A dream that had this sense of pragmatic setting. It wasn't until the sharp click of boots marched in and stood right before her, did she realized it was all but a dream.
