Rónán had been thrown rather unceremoniously into the room with the comment of "he's one of your sort."
The past few days had been Hell, he'd been captured, sold, beaten and his seals sealskin stolen to keep him trapped.
Sitting up, he wiped blood from his lip, "hello?"
The room was only dimly lit and there was a little orange pin of light coming from the back of the chamber. It sparked and brightened as Cam inhaled from his cigarette and swore.
Through the thin wall came a voice. "Is he pretty? Cam, you have to do something if he's prettier than me!"
The person who'd been referred to as Cam banged on the wall and extinguished his smoke with a sound of annoyance. "Dùin do bheul," he snarled at whoever had been talking, then got up from what Rónán could now probably see was a bed of sorts. Cam had dragged the blanket off of it, wrapped it around himself, as he crouched in front of the new arrival.
"Did they hurt ye?"