All was grey and saturated with the musk of evening. A heavy, humid wind came out from the West and settled itself along the cusp of the mountains before finally snaking its way into Tryn’s sizable hovel. Combined with the heat radiating from her massive form, it gave the shelter an odd warmth that bred mostly discomfort. A few hours earlier Soren had watched as the others slogged back toward the pit, all sullen and mutated with fits of anguish. Claire was nearly hysterical, but some of the other women had managed to calm her just enough to allow her legs to function for the walk back. She must have really cared for Victor, or so Soren thought. It was rare to see such emotion those days, and it really began to weigh on his mind. Well, for a time at least, at the moment he had been plagued by something else.

The sun’s last few rays of light tried climbing up over the crests of the mountains but came only in dim waves. In the shadow of Tryn’s crudely constructed canopy, Soren sat grinding his teeth, trying his best not to look at the twittering array of lashes directly behind him. Looming over him was Tryn’s head, which lay lazily on the unyielding bedrock.

“What do you think I should do with you?”

Soren didn’t feel like answering. He knew it wouldn’t be enough. Instead he continued to drag his right toe through the clay on the ground, tracing an ever deepening circle. Every so often he would flinch as another puff of hot air washed past him. Tryn’s breaths were quick, clearly betraying the calm demeanor she attempted to pass off as her true temperament. What Soren couldn’t tell was if she was angry, nervous, or something else entirely.

“Do not ignore me any longer Little Bear, I asked you a question…” she growled

Angry it was then. Soren circled back around to face her, but he refused to look into her massive eyes. The glare she gave was dark and terrible, like a shadow swallowing the last few specks of daylight on the cascades.

“I’m sorry, I...I don’t know. Just, stop please, let me go home. I don’t belong here!” Soren managed to choke out in a half-sobbing slew of speech. Tryn’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t believe in the sincerity of his dismay. The sharp lines of her irises seemed glossed over by an irreconcilable fury. Yet, for all the anger pent up inside her chest she seemed relatively relaxed. With one hand she twirled a strand of dark hair before finally letting it fall across her face.

“Everyone belongs here Enoch.” she eventually began. “Its just a matter of how long you belong.”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine, I get that you’re still adjusting and all, but you have a very specific job. Specific, but not exclusive. I have been more than generous to you Enoch, and I can understand not wanting to give up others like you. That is...for the most part, excusable. But slacking off with your regular duties entirely. That’s unforgivable.”

Soren’s throat clogged. What was it that would not let air escape his lungs? Was it some foreign refuse, some innate reaction, or was his body just trying to save him from the pain that was to come. He fell backwards till his body rested on the ground and his eyes stared up to the ceiling far above.

“Enoch, LOOK AT ME!” Tryn roared. Her fist pounded into the ground, sending out a shockwave that suddenly returned Soren’s breath. A slight scream escaped the distant pit and Soren shot back up to a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”

“Just because you didn’t know, doesn’t mean you are innocent…”

With that Tryn lifted her head and slid her left arm back so that it propped up her upper body. Soren followed her shoulders with his eyes, finally biting his lip as she reared up overhead. The mounting darkness clouded his vision and his thoughts as a multitude of evening crickets began their summer aria.

“Wh-wh-why do you hate us so much?” Soren stuttered back meekly. Tryn’s eyes narrowed once again as the sneer melted from her face.

“What?”

“Why do you hate us so much? Where did all this awful, sadistic hatred come from? Why here? Why us? Why-” but Tryn interrupted his sniveling.

“Stop! Stop your sobbing! I don’t hate-”

“I just...don’t understand. Please, I just wanted to-”

“ENOCH! Shut the fuck up!” Tryn roared back. What malignant forbearance she held before had been replaced with exhaustion. It was a trait that set her apart from many other giants. For some reason the groveling that most of her kind so greedily sought was far more an annoyance to Tryn than a pleasure.

“I don’t hate you. Not yet at least, ok? I am just trying to a make a place for myself here. You know what the others of my kind are like, you have to be tough if you want to survive. I’ve done well here, but I can’t always do it alone. That’s why I need you all, ok?”

“I...I don’t…”

“Understand? I know, and you never will, none of you little things will ever understand. Your brains must not function the way ours do, so just drop it and accept the reality of it all”

Soren suddenly felt a engrossed in some synthetic sensory overload. Nothing made any sense, as each perceivable ray of light and tick of sound seemed to scramble the circuits of his brain. Another wave of air washed over him, and with it much of Tryn’s immediate anger escaped her body. The long sigh ended with a slight hum as the giantess continued to muse over her options.

“Well something must be done…” she stated nonchalantly. Soren didn’t quite understand what she meant and began to panic. Though he knew she watched him keenly, he started a futile shuffle toward a nearby ledge hoping against hope that he might somehow escape her gaze. He made it only about ten feet when he heard her sinister snicker. Seconds later, her hand slammed down in front of him, cracking the earth and sending a shockwave that rattled his skeleton. He froze, eyes shut and breath seized. Only when he finally blinked through the settling dust could he make out the tremendous looming wall that now impeded his progress.

“Really?” Tryn said. “You think you can get away like that?”

“I-I-I-” Soren managed to stutter back. Tryn gave another short chuckle before lifting her hand and clearing a path for poor Soren.

“Go ahead, run. Hide away. You’ll never make it out there without me.”

Soren paused and began to tentatively turn about to face his colossal captor. As her enormous shadowed face panned into his field of view a new dreadful thought crept into the back of his stress laden mind. Perhaps she wasn’t misguided. Perhaps she wasn’t just evil. Perhaps this was simply the natural affectation of these giants. Maybe nothing human can be used to reason with them. Maybe they are truly just creatures of impulse. That scared Soren more than anything else. To be faced with a being so far removed from the black and white morality of human understanding was somehow more upsetting than any sin he had witnessed prior.

“Hmmm-” Tryn droned again, “Now I must punish you. I’d throw you in the box but, well its occupied at the moment.” she cooed as she gave a slight tug on the string hanging around her neck. “No, I think we’ll start with something more physical. You’re a physical person yes?” She leaned in, her eyes narrow and curious. The more she scrutinized his diminutive, shattered little body the more self-conscious he became. “Hmm, perhaps not, you’re a very thoughtful person. You and your...god.” With one hand she brushed aside a few stray strands of ebony hair whilst a horrible smile stretched out across her face. It wasn’t evil or malicious however, it was a regular grin spurred on by enthusiasm. How grotesquely commonplace this manner of intimidation was to her. It wasn’t even really a form of coercion to Tryn, only a means of communicating. Soren instinctively shuffled back just as he saw her hand began its slow approach toward him.

“No...no I can do...no!” he cried out.

“Hold still now, this will not be nearly as bad if you just stay still.”

“No, I’m...no what are you going to…”

“Just give me your arm. That’s all…”

“No! Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

Tryn’s face flashed a frustrated glare, not unlike the look of resentment given by some conventional disciplinarian. “Enoch, here NOW, otherwise it’ll be a whole lot worse for you…” Her fingers extended with unnatural speed, pinning Soren’s torso and digging into the earth adjacent to him. Tryn’s thumb and forefinger finally managed to grasp Soren’s right arm, enveloping him in a perdurable vice of pain.

“Now Little Bear, I want you to remember this ok? Hopefully so I don’t have to do something like this again. Got it?”

But Soren could only scream. Tears and hysteric wailing were the only reactions he could give. It was truly a pitiful sight and Tryn knew it. Were it any other giant they might have let the madness gone on for much longer than necessary, just to drink in the suffering. Tryn felt something else entirely. It wasn’t quite empathy but something a little more primal. Maybe just the gaunt phantom of memory creeping up on her. Whatever the case may have been she finished her chore in seconds. With the slightest of squeezes, nearly imperceptible to herself, she snapped Soren’s frail arm at the elbow.

The pain was so great that Soren could hardly even cry out any longer. Instead he writhed for a minute. Tryn looked away immediately and began digging through one of her neatly organized piles of treasures. Moments later she produced another of the dark green military crates in which she stowed most of her smaller belongings. She set it down gently next to Soren as he continued to convulse from the harsh sensation of his dislocated limb. He opened his eyes briefly to glimpse the box but soon them once more. It must have been some cruel trick, he thought. Even when Tryn spoke up again he did not seem to notice.

“Now this will help the pain, I had the others gather what medical supplies they could and put it in this little chest. I’ll leave it with you in the hole, perhaps one of the others can help you with it, that is…if they are still inclined to do so.”

  Soren hardly registered a word, all he could focus on were the words ‘help’ and ‘pain’. He rolled to his feet and threw the chest wide open with his good arm. Inside was a mess of gauze, tackle boxes full of syringes, and every other multitude of first aid that one could possibly fit in such a container. Soren didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t have long to look. The box snapped shut and suddenly disappeared into the air as Tryn snatched it back up with two of her extended fingers. Soren’s eyes drooped as he felt the malicious wave of fatigue suddenly seized him.

   “Come now, you can walk or I can carry you. It’s your choice…” Tryn mused rather resolutely. There was a minor thud as she guided her left hand down onto the ground beside him. He was disgusted by her, he felt more nauseous than scared offering him a kindness so soon after her cruel punishment. Nevertheless, the thought of stumbling the long distance back to his dingy cell was even more dreadful, so he hoisted himself onto her palm with what small ounce of strength he had left. She carefully moved him back to the dark hovel with the others, where she once again lay her hand flat, allowing him to dismount on his own terms. He did so with little purpose driving his limbs and proceeded to collapse like a burning house as soon as his feet touched the soil. Tryn placed the crate next to him and slide the hole’s cover back into place, leaving the huddle of humans in their usual darkness.

   “Christ!” one of the strangers cried out when they saw Soren’s broken frame. “She did a number on thissin’ that’s fa sure”

   “Don’t…don’t say that!” Soren croaked back amid throes of anguish. The strange man returned only a look of confusion in the dim. “Don’t use his name so harshly!”

    “Alright, alright get back, all ‘a ya. Lemme look at him” Caleb droned as he slogged through the amassing crowd of onlookers. Kate followed close behind before she diverted to the crate. Whilst she began rummaging through its interior Caleb crouched over Soren with one hand held tentatively out over his forehead. If he was trying to comfort Soren it wasn’t working well at all. Soren only thrashed about harder when he saw Caleb draw closer. The mere thought of more contact sent him into mad fits that were finally stopped when Caleb spoke up again, this time a bit softer.

    “Calm yerself now, you keep moving like that and you’ll only make it worse. Lemme see it, I’ve had to mend my fair share of injuries since I’ve been here.” He quickly snagged Soren’s arm, and though the poor man screamed with hot fury he soon surrendered it to his companion’s grip.

    “You, you gotta let me…gotta let me get out of here…” Soren sobbed up to Caleb. His words drove the lingering mass of people into a ceaseless storm of murmuring. Their incessant whispers only served to agitate Soren further, as he scanned the crescent mass between seizing conniptions.

“Alright, lets see here, can feel you this?”

Soren screamed with a renewed level of torment. Caleb nodded thoughtfully and moved his hands down to Soren’s wrist.

“How about this?” There was a pause and Soren nodded. “Hmm, well the good news is I don’t think the bones snapped completely, I’d guess you gotta crack or two and elbow is blown to hell. Shouldn’t be a problem just gotta…” With a quick jerk Caleb snapped the bones back into place. Again Soren’s mouth was absent of cries or curses, only a small squeak escaped his lips as his suffering was abruptly flared and then eased.

“That’s better then...Tom!” Caleb suddenly roared, jerking his head to the side in Thomas’ direction. The poor unstable fool was given such a start that he nearly fell over backwards. “Tom, go get ‘im something stiff!”

Thomas’ eyes dropped, and a tragic trembling in his lip revealed a sudden sadness. “But, but...my-” he stammered.

“Tom! Enough, go get the vodka! He needs it more than any ‘a us…”

Tom looked like he was about to protest, but another glare from Caleb silenced him and he soon disappeared into blackness. With the matter settled Caleb tried to hoist Soren to his feet, but was met with great resistance. At last, Soren stood, though his clothes muddled and his arm swollen to a sickening shade of purple. He could hardly see, but Soren knew the mangled state of his limb. Eyes averted, he stumbled over to the crate where Kate waited with the implements necessary for crafting a sling.

“Come, sit...someone get him a stool…” Kate called to the others. No one moved to answer her command, instead they only continued to whisper to one another. Kate turned, face red, and called again. “Someone, its not hard! Anyone?” Still nothing.

Then out of the dark a strange voice finally grew louder: “Wha’s it knee? God nah answer ya prayers?” A cacophony of spiteful snickers followed.

“Enough ya damn animals!” Caleb scolded.

“I can stand…” Soren moaned back. As Kate began constructing the sling, Soren tried to mutter some personal words of hope but for some reason nothing tactile came of it all. When he lifted his head he caught Caleb staring back at him. All of them, everyone of Tryn’s prisoners looked on with the same blank look on their faces. It was almost like indifference but Soren gradually came to realize that what they felt was actually something akin to familiarity. This sort of thing must happen a lot, and thus none of them were terribly torn up about it.

“So you mind telling me what’s she ravin’ on about now?”

Soren gave a pouting glare before answering: “Why, wh-what do you care?Its all just a game to you all anyway! You make your jokes and your pleas and-”

“Whoa easy there buddy, we jus used to it is all...Besides, if she’s mad about something that means we all gotta deal with it one way or another. So let me give you some advice. Don’t bother trying to hold out on her, she always gets her way…”

“What would you have me do!” Soren cried. The words escaped his mouth with unquenchable fervor. “Surrender the location of the other camps? Condemn thousands of innocent lives?”

Caleb smirked. “You don’t think she’ll find them anyway? ‘Sides, all you uniforms clustering together like you do, its dangerous you could-”

“Oh, and I suppose you’d rather we all live in the dirt like the rest of you…” Soren countered.

“Hey now I don’t-”

But Caleb’s words were cut off by a tremendous crash somewhere in the distance. The usual seismic distortion created by Tryn’s movements became relatively tolerable after a time, but this was different. Typically she would simply shift her weight or take a few tentative steps at a time, but this was fast and violent. Something was clearly wrong. The others huddled together as dust began to rain down over them from the ditch’s cover. Moments later it was ripped clean away, revealing the fresh moonlit air above. Tryn’s face suddenly appeared and she did not look happy.

“WHERE IS HE?” she thundered. The shockwave sent out by her voice was enough to send everyone to the ground. Briefly deafened, the concussive force irritated Soren’s swollen limb causing him to cry out with reignited anguish.

“Where is he hiding, I know one of you knows!”

“W-w-who?” Kate asked meekly from her hiding place behind the green crate.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know” she roared, once again sending everyone into terrified cowering spheres. “Victor, where the hell is he?”

“We thought he was-”

“SOMEONE TELL ME NOW!”

Soren tried to crawl away, though to where he was not sure. Tryn brought her fist down onto the earth, shaking more of the rocks and soil around the hole’s rim to loose, causing it to  tumble onto the hapless few inside. Soren and the others braced as rotting humus, gravel, and even some larger stones collapsed on top of them. When it was all over Soren peeked his head up from beneath his arms and was immediately met by a chorus of fear and suffering. Many of those around him had been injured by Tryn’s sudden tantrum, and many others still feared that it was not yet over. When Soren directed his twitching eyes upward he saw Tryn’s face had mutated from a raging mask of violence to a trembling grimace of frustrated despair. Her eyes were soaked with tears, which soon began to roll down both cheeks. Her breaths, when audible, were harsh and long. While her eyebrows and lips switched constantly between strain and slack.