From Book 3. This is a tough one… unedited.
Hugging his knees to his chest, he sat naked on the dirt floor, hunched over with his back pressed against the wall of the prison cell. Dark crimson gashes and ugly purplish bruises colored his arms. His calves. His shoulders. But he was breathing. Breathing was good.
When Allerix cleared his throat, Gaius lifted his chin and Alle gasped.
“I can’t—can’t feel my fingers,” Gaius groaned. His right eye swollen and half closed, dried blood caked the nostrils of his proud patrician nose and the corners of his chapped, split lips. “So cold.”