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	Jack was waking up again, only this time there were no horse breathing over his face, no sounds of surrounding forest, no indication he was outside at all. What he did smell was the must of mould again, like that of the inside of Torn’s basement, which is where he thought he was before opening his eyes.  But no, he was not back in Torn’s basement. As he lifted his head, blinking several times to clear his vision, he found himself in a different underground grotto. Maybe a cave. Smaller, less kept, damper, a little darker, as it was lit only by two candles at the foot of the extremely uncomfortable bed he was on. He was also very cold. 

‘Where the hell are my clothes?’  Were the first words to pass his drowsy lips, as he caught sight of Amber standing nearby, a cloth in her hand. A bucket on the stone floor next to her.  

‘I had to remove them,’ she replied, seeming quite wistful about it, ‘You peed your trousers when you fainted.’  

Jack regarded his nakedness, regarded Amber with a flat expression. He was just about to ask why she hadn’t bothered to go the extra mile and change him into fresh clothing, or at least covered him with a blanket, but then found a more pressing topic of conversation when he spotted the Chilli perched on the edge of a barrel on the far side of the room.