A disgraced War Bard takes a wrong turn and finds herself in the hands of her enemies.
 

     The round stone hut was the sturdiest building in the entire Skartish village. I knew because I had explored it for several hours in the dark, trying to wedge my fingers in between stones, tearing at mortar, and digging in the hard-packed dirt floor for some way of escaping from underneath. No windows, no openings in the walls, save for the one occupied by a thick wooden door reinforced with iron bands. The other buildings in the compound were rickety structures of bamboo and balsa-wood built upon stilts, spindly-legged like spiders, or else nestled within the embrace of the huge hardwood trees that grew in wild profusion in the Skartish jungles. I had caught glimpses of them last night, but, of course, they had thrown me in here instead.

     I suppose, in a roundabout way, I could consider it to be a compliment.

     I'd be lying if I said that it was an honor.