The tattered remnants of her clothing hung from her shrivelled body like beggars rags. Her once beautiful copper hair was falling out in handfuls and her lips were covered with weeping sores. For weeks she had been unable to hold down any food or water and had eventually stopped trying, her body was badly dehydrated, she was dying. Stefan refused to give up, constantly badgering her and talking to her in the hopes of keeping her alive. ‘Don’t give up Daria,’ he said, ‘my friends will be here soon to rescue us and I’m sure your friends aren’t far away either, just hang on a little longer, that’s all I ask.’ Daria was so weak she could barely lift her head. ‘Unfortunately my friend, I fear it’s too late for me.’ ‘No, don’t say that,’ pleaded Stefan. He pulled his chains to their full extent, dragging himself over to Daria. He could just reach her and gently took her hand in his; it felt like old parchment. Logically he knew she was dying, but he refused to believe his head and instead listened to his heart.
