The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (Season 2+)

The Cursed Forest

Hup bit at the stick in his hand. He didn't know how long he had been enslaved here. Time seemed to bend differently, and reality was at the whim of the sisters. During his imprisonment he had watched the sisters carefully, learning all he could about the house and grounds. Plotting and planning for this night. He had been able to sneak a few twigs from the broom bristles on his last outing to clean the sisters' house. How he hadn't been caught smuggling them was a miracle. He twisted the last sprig into the bundle he had been making and bound it together with a few strands of his hair. He moved to the cage door and reached through the bars, around to the lock.

Inserting the bundle into the metal mechanism, he jostled the makeshift lockpick. Not too hard, worried that the metal would break the woven stick of thistly sprigs. He felt the mechanism and began to twist, trying to open up the padlock. He heard and felt a snap.

"Fasbo," he cursed under his breath.

He pulled out the twisted bristles and inspected it. The pick had snapped off and the entire pick fell apart in his hand. He pulled the broken off part from the lock and sat back in defeat. He picked up a small nebrie bone and began gnawing the small bit of meat and cartilage off one end. He lost himself in the biting, trapped in thought as he bit into the bone too hard and it snapped. The shard stuck into his tongue and he pulled the bone out. Reaching up and feeling the small piece in his tongue, he pulled it out and tossed the shard aside. It landed next to his foot, a tiny droplet of blood soaked into the hard sponge of the bone needle. He tasted blood as he sat there, sucking on his tongue. Looking down at the bone he still had in his hand, he ran a finger along the jagged edge of the broken piece. It felt like the metal jagged ridges of a key.

He jumped up and made his way to the lock once more. He tried fitting the broken end into the lock, but it was too big. He stuck that end back in his mouth and began to chew. The bone was tough. But Hup knew that a cooked bone was weaker than a raw one. He gnawed and chewed at the splintered end, his teeth straining in his skull as the force required to bite forced them to their limit. He spat out a few splinters, a splattering of blood purple blood seeping into the hay around them. His mouth was bleeding, but he'd be fine. He stuck the bloodied end of the bone back into the lock. It was a bit smaller than the keyhole, but that was what he wanted. It gave him more room to wriggle the pick around.

There was a sudden, loud creak above his head and he froze. The silence crept in and his breath sounded like a howling wind. He listened intently. The tiniest of sounds from above and he would hide his makeshift lockpick in his hay bedding. He sat completely still for what felt like hours. The only sounds being his own breath and heartbeat, as it thudded in his head. Hearing nothing more, he continued fiddling with the lock.

He tried to find the sweet spot. The place where he could get the latch and turn it open. It was proving difficult. The lock was made of solid metal, and the mechanisms were rusty. Even if he found it there would be no guarantee that the metal would open easily. His whole arm, wrist and hand was at an odd angle to reach the keyhole, adding another 'maybe' to the equation. As in maybe he wouldn't be able to turn the lock with his arm positioned like it was. Then the pick clicked in place. It had found a groove. Hopefully the one that opened the latch. He pushed and pushed, grabbing the back of the lock with his free hand to give more force to the torque, praying that the bone wouldn't snap on him too.

A sudden jolt and the bone twisted, the metal giving a little squeak as the rust finally gave way. The podling breathed a sigh of relief. He twisted the pick and the lock opened with a soft but grating click. He pulled the lock free from the latch on his door and opened the cage. His heartbeat quickened in excitement as he dropped down to the floor. Stealthily he made his way to his things, hung on the hook in the wall. He pulled the sword and slung the bow over his shoulder. Strapping the sword belt around his waist, he pulled his cap on his head and breathed in. He grabbed his trusty spoon, and tucked it into the sword belt.