The pit of blood in the corner of the deepest part of the cave, the part that Rosamere sat in in utter darkness, began to gurgle and slosh. From it rose the king of blood, and nightmare of a man, a plague to Terra Nova.

Hiram tipped his head back, breathing deeply of the cavern's air as if it were fresh, though it was actually stale and smelly, heavy from all the blood that had been sitting in it for years. After a pause, though he didn't need to pause to know his little capture was still in there, he moved towards the place where he kept his tinder box, the blood slithering from him and back into its pool. A moment later a match hissed to life and he set a waiting torch on fire.

Hiram murmured to himself, his words inaudible, the only obvious part his high-pitched chuckle that followed. He might have been recounting an encounter he had just had, or he might have been having a conversation with someone who wasn’t there. Regardless, he continued on as he moved about the cavern, picking things up and putting them down with apparent intentionality, though since Rosamere wasn’t watching she wouldn’t know what exactly he was about in the dim light of the torch.

Hiram was taking inventory. It wasn’t a very interesting task but it was a busy one. If someone had touched or moved or taken something of his then he’d figure it out.

He had just picked up an axe typically used for cutting down trees when he’d freeze and then abruptly cut his head and eyes towards the witch.

It hadn't been her movement that had drawn his attention, but simply instinct. That feeling of being watched. The way his eye fell on her, the fix of his stare, was as if it was only in that moment that he remembered she was there at all. The next second he was moving towards her, closing in as a predator leaps upon its prey.

Hiram stalked right up to her and reached out his hands, attempting to grab her skinny little body and heft it under his arm. Should she squirm or kick she would be ignored. He would begin to walk, taking the route that led out of the cave.

She'd lived in darkness and the dim light of a torch for days now, so surely their approach towards natural light would be akin to a vampire's exposure to sunlight. HIram didn't care. Let her squirm. Let her retaliate. He was a tank of a man, an unstoppable force who had learned to take a punch and a half from the world and dole it back.

Hiram approached the mouth of the cave. It was noon, the sun was high in the sky, and it was summer. If she wasn't already sweating then it would start promptly. Hiram's own sides were wet with his sweat.

He'd deposit her to the ground once outside of the cave.