"Food," Kyros' voice rasped, echoing softly in the lush chamber he'd stopped in.

The rustle of the skeletal servant's tattered robe told him it was on its way, and he put his head down to take in the scents of the flora around him.

Finding a patch of tender, sweet ferns, he began to tear them from the ground. The skeleton soon returned with a handful of mushrooms.

"Fire."

The skeleton began to click the flint and steel together, and soon Kyros could hear the whisper of a small flame grow as it licked at whatever dried-out plants the skeleton had given it as fuel.

He continued to eat hungrily, lipping at plants and digging for savoury roots. He'd finish with the mushrooms, as he always did. They made his existence slightly less wretched.