Shamya had been foolish enough to surrender when things were at their worst.  That didn't really stop them from giving her a good smack over the head, no, or maybe it was jabbing her with some of those poisoned daggers.  Either way, her head had hurt until recently and her body had a good stab wound in it, too.  By the grace of Chauntea, she had lived.  By the discipline of a maiden of the wilds, she had known to keep her head down even though nothing could spare one all of a drow's wrath.  Though she has been cooperative, at least in appearance, she knows that drow cannot be reasoned with in the long term.  The best she can hope for, if she does not escape, is to find a way to kill herself and join Chauntea.<br/><br/>There was some dried blood on her clothes that is testament to the fact that if Chauntea really wanted her dead, she'd be gone by now.  Her body would have fallen and become nutrients for one crop, mushroom, or another, and her spirit would have gone home.<br/><br/>Besides, there was too much to see down here to give up on life just yet.<br/><br/>She just had no plans of seeing it from inside of this cell or in chains, still.  How could she take care of her hair if she could not wash her hair properly?  Even if she had done her best to keep it in order, there was little she could do with just her hands.<br/><br/>Her voice was low as she began to mutter, "Fumbledog fell down a hole and ended up in the company of five new friends.   She hates not being able to wander, though."<br/><br/>"She will help her friends wander, if they help her wander." She smiled.  Though she did not show them her ace, she would gladly help without it.