In the corner, a tiny sprite watched the events unfolding below her. I must warn them, warn the children! The sprite flew off, unseen, towards the cells, afraid she might be caught, but unwilling to abandon her friends. She flew fast, weaving through pots and pans, bags of fruits and vegetables hanging from the ceiling, nearly getting herself caught up in all the wires and mesh. The kitchen extended a hundred feet in every direction, and it was full of goblins preparing for a feast. Chickens. Turkeys. Cattle. Periodically, she would hear a yelp, or a cow bray as its throat was slit. Pots and pans steamed from the heat. For a moment, she tasted bile in the back of her throat. Poor Eugene. She wept.