The Captive in the Tale

“He sucked in the frigid air through his nostrils, exhaling a puff of steam. With clenched fists, he beat his chest, his breath now coming in pants. He clapped his hands and reached for the nails and hammer. With a final glance, he grasped an arm and lifted it high until it rested against the smooth bark. He shifted and placed the tip of a spike against its pale surface. With a low roar, the man swung the mallet, the noise of clanging metal ringing through the predawn. He closed his ears to...