If it was one thing that struck him about the humans – or at least about his captors – it was the sameness. All wore the same simple shirts over the same simple pants. All had the same hair color, arranged in the same haircut.

The only difference lay in their eyes. Not the color, which again seemed to repeat itself, but the emotions that lay in them. Some seemed little more than curious; others timid or even frightened; still others seemed offended by his very existence.

For the most part they left him alone, intent on allowing him to wear himself out. The only exceptions were the young boy who brought his food and the apparent leader, who would occasionally observe him for a short while before leaving again.

Galen looked up to see the boy observing him and smiled hesitantly. The boy was young, but he possessed the same qualities as all the men that Galen had seen. His eyes spoke of curiosity and, strangely enough pity. “Can you get a message to my… comrades?” Galen asked, hoping the spark of humanity in the boy meant he might be willing to help.

“I… don’t know,” the boy said before he fled out the door. Galen closed his eyes and sighed. This was going to be a delicate operation. He looked at the door the boy had fled through and was rewarded by the sight of the youngster watching him. It would be delicate – but not impossible.