Still the sound of water dripping, still her heart thumping, still disoriented, she again forces herself to stand until the chains stretch taut, to hu...ch forward as her bare feet scrape across the dark damp stone floor in miniscule steps, somehow drawn toward the constant drip? Drip? Drip in the darkness. Shuffling along in the short halting steps allowed by the ankle chains, occasionally stumbling with the wrist chains dangling, clanking, their weight draws her arms down toward her. A second later and the rams began to slowly swing back up towards the roof. ‘Resetting themselves for their next victim,’ Clara thought. ‘Or me, if I don’t watch my step on the way out.’ Clara stood back up, and turned back towards the pedestal. Being extra careful where she stepped, she approached the pedestal, and the treasure on top of it. She could scarcely believe what she was looking at. It was no more than three months ago that an archaeological team that she was with had stumbled upon. More

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