Lyana

"Put your back into it!" the orc yelled at the woman next to her before pulling out his whip.

Lyana could see her raise her pick and bring it down as hard as she could on the soft metal in the cave wall. Satisfied, the orc sneered and continued walking down the line of prisoners, all chained together and swinging their picks at the copper that lined the wall. He barked the occasional order at someone not working hard enough, or someone just too tired. They couldn't last forever like this though. They were mining for about 15 hours a day, with breaks only for meals and sleep. It had been almost a week, and Lyana could tell that many of them would not last another, not if the orcs kept good on their promises for not working.

With a frustrated feeling, she swung harder at the rock wall, chipping off a large chunk of stone and revealing more of the copper vein. Her arms ached and she returned to her normal, easy pace.

What hope was there? The chains were too strong for their picks to break, and their only times not mining were spent under armed guard. All in all there were about 50 of the slaves, and maybe 20 orcs. But how could they fight? If any of them fell, they'd be immobile, and the orcs had many weapons. Their picks were dangerous to be sure, but too many were too tired already, and many were afraid.

"Alright, that's enough!" the orc yelled as he came back. "Time for your grub!"

They all set their picks down and turned to walk back out into the sunlight. The woman in front of Lyana stumbled, but the man in front of her held her up as they walked.

They needed time to plan. To talk amongst themselves without being overheard or told to be quiet, but such times never came.

The sunlight was blinding as she stepped out of the cave. The line walked by a table of rotted wood, a pair of orcs with bowls and some foul soup handing their daily lunch to each of them. How could they communicate?

This question was all that was on Lyana's mind as she ate, but she was confident she could come up with an answer.