Tonight. Tonight he would get somewhere, do something worthwhile, find a damn weapon. He was tired of trying to rip apart his room and not succeeding - a piece of the bedframe would have made an excellent weapon, but he couldn't get it apart. So that was out of the question.

Caim had an idea. The courtyard - the area where he'd been during the day, when that bastard tried to rip out his eye - had a shed. He was willing to bet that there was something in there that he could use - tools, maybe, but tools were useful. They could still do damage, still rip and tear, still bludgeon.

So, with paper and pens in his pocket and the flashlight in his hand, Caim set out for the courtyard.