Dead by DawnThe prison smelled like a combination of sweat and musty cellar, both of which weren't pleasant, but hardly bothered Cicero as he sat in the middle of his cell, counting the hours as he tapped his index finger upon his muddy boot. He'd heard the guard mutter something along the lines of half a day; that he'd have to stay imprisoned.He sighed from his nose as he smoothed his hand over his ratted, red hair, raising his irises with his brow in dismay, as they'd taken his precious hat.He forgot what time it was it must have been close to evening by then, but it was hard to say, since there was no window in the holding cell. The jester s