It was daylight. That was the first thing Constantine noticed when he cracked his eyes open, just before a terrifically searing pain proceeded to lance down his back all the way down to his heels as if he had lain down in a fire for a nap.
Ah. Then again, what had actually happened was little better, he recalled. It was a miracle he was alive at all.
And now, he was somewhere he didn't recognize, lying on his stomach on top of a cloak that wasn't his, and he could feel blades of damp grass poking through to his bare chest. Naked. He'd been stripped down to nothing. Didn't bother him much in itself, but the dragon and wyvernscale leathers he'd nicked from Felix's collection were probably worth more than he ever cared to repay. Now they were lost, and he was ass-bare in the misty weather
