from Historian's Notebook
They have begun to leave me by myself for a day or so at a time, so I explore my prison. Actually, I only call it that — there are no iron doors, no locks, no night guards who like to touch up the Bone-snapper's work after everyone's asleep, or pretending to be. A young female used to be left with me, a kind of nurse who fed me and helped me exercise my leg. She didn't seem happy with the assignment, if I can judge from her peculiar little face, which bore no expression I could read except extreme alertness. She rarely turned her eyes on me, but when she did, it was chilling — interest without feeling. I had no doubt she could have dispatched me as easily as a cat kills a moth that wanders into the room.