There was no more light coming from the window and the only thing that kept out the room in a complete darkness were the embers, cracking and casting a dim light. Clara was still holding the book that she leafed through on her lap before falling asleep. With a heavy sigh, she sat up slowly on the bed. She hoped that by opening her eyes everything would have gone back to normal, whatever the normal used to be to her, but no. She was in that tiny room, remembering anything that could have happened before she got there. Again, she felt the urgency to run away, but she was too weak to that.

Nana came later that night, bringing her a tray with a bowl and a mug she set on the bedside table.

"I brought you a stock. It will help to warm you up and fill your stomach a bit." realizing Clara's hesitation, she continued. "Relax. I do not mean to do you any harm. As I said, you're safe."

Even distrustful, Clara lifted the bowl to her lips and felt her body slowly getting warm as the liquid trickled down her throat. She didn't know what it was, but after the first sip, she realized how hungry she was and quickly devoured the leftover, choking a little at the end, which made Nana hit her back as she chuckled.

"I've even been flattered ... There is such a long time since I saw anyone devouring my soup so fast as you have."

"What place is this?" Clara asked.

"We are in a Cell. Cell 5, to be precise" Clara looked wary. "We fight against the Citadel and its Governor that hunt us like animals. Everyone living outside its walls is an enemy, an Exiled. A danger for them."

"Are we in a Cell?"

"Yes, darling. There are five cells scattered around the Citadel with a leader each. About fifteen years ago, systematic strikes against the Exiled began. The Citadel troops arbitrarily killed everything and everyone they met along the way confiscating whatever they found: plantations, cattle, weapons, everything. Until them, the Exiled were isolated and dispersed, turning into easy targets to the Citadel troops. Then, they decided to join and form armies of combatants. It was not strategic to be reunited in one place or have a single government. Although in largest number, they did not have much training to strike back.
"A single government was utterly out of the question since it was easier to overthrow a ruler than a group of them and so they have elected a council of five members."

"Each Council member is in a Cell and all decisions are made by consensus, but they avoid meetings with the five members at the same time. It's a security measure. So, when there are important decisions to take, they are communicated by radio. This is the only way." Nana explained while she changed the bandage on her head.

"And what's outside the Cells?"

"There are a few villages, with small merchants and bars, where people go sometimes to exchange some goods. But there is not much left from the previous world. Just rubble, abandoned cars, trash..." Nana finished the bandage and took the tray. "The villages have arisen where once were cities, but there are not many survivors there, just a couple streets. Most people who go there are wanderers, troublemakers searching for a drink, gambling, and women. Well, I think I've given you enough to think about. Now, I need to go."

"But who else lives here? What do people do? How do they survive? Are there people who are neither here nor in the villages?" Clara held Nana's hand. She could not just walk away and leave her with her head buzzing with questions.

"Calm down. I'll answer your questions, ok? Now rest. You still need to recover." she closed the door again and locked the bolt outside.

Was it true what she had told her? Was there nothing outside or was she saying this to keep her in that room like a prisoner? Again, her eyes rested on the window, high on the wall next to her bed. As quietly as she could, she dragged her bed to the window wall and climbed up the bed. It was too much high.

She looked around and stepped off the bed to get the brass that served as a bedside table, put it on the mattress and climbed up again. The remaining glass was too narrow for her, even if she were skinny. She tried to see outside, it was too dirty. Only a weak moonlight penetrated through the multiple layers of dust.

Frustrated, she got down, returning the brass and the bed to their places. On the opposite wall, there was a small greasy mirror. She did not even remember her appearance! Stopping in front of it, Clara gazed at her reflection: her hair was brown, slightly curly and tied in a braid that she had made, and which fell down her shoulder almost to the waist. The eyes were equally brown and watched her with curiosity. Her nose was thin, slightly curved at the base, but her lips were thick and lightly rosy on a serious thin, delicate face of tanned skin. This, of course, was a consequence of walking under the burning sun. But where? She noticed a slightly yellowish tone on one cheek that looked like an old bruise. Had she fought? With whom?

She noted her hands, again realizing the thin scars on the arms, trying to imagine what could have caused them. Others were a little thicker, probably some blade and small callouses on the index and middle fingers. What could that say about her?