Days passed in quiet succession. Every noon, Brida came into contact with Shale, and they talked. But they did not dare speak of an escape plan, not in so open a place as the cafeteria. Instead, it seemed to be an unspoken mutual agreement, that they would mention the subject, if they were allowed alone in the garden together.
And it took a week for such a lucky event to occur. Brida had given up hope of ever being allowed into a place of solitude with Shale, when the warden's footsteps began to clack down the hallway. It had to be the warden, of course - who else would be coming for Brida?
Brida scrambled to the barred door, heart pounding in her chest. Perhaps, today would be the day! Perhaps, she and Shale would be allowed to see one another. And perhaps, they could speak of plans to leave!
Yes, deep inside, tucked away between the disbelief and the fear, Brida wanted to be convinced of the possibility of escaping. Did that mean she was already convinced?
But there was something written on the warden's eyes today - something like joy. It was such a foreign emotion to the warden's eyes that Brida was taken aback. Joy was an almost nonexistent feeling, in the asylum. It was accepted, in the (albeit feeble) minds of those who dwelt within the asylum's walls, that joy was something as rare as a glimpse of the outside world. What had happened?
"Brida," the warden said, voice almost happy, "I have excellent news for you."