Chapter Eight
Tim
The cold was only marginally less debilitating for the blanket she had folded and pushed into his cage through the tiny opening at its bottom.
It was old, had seen better days and, worse, smelt of the dog she had allowed to rest upon it before giving it to him. But it was large, at least, and provided him with some respite from the cold of the small inner courtyard. A courtyard that was at least, and thankfully, protected from the late winter winds by the walls that rose to three storeys upon the four sides of his cage.
Also, it provided his naked body some protection from the woman’s eyes that roamed over him as if he were indeed no more than a canine for whom privacy was unnecessary.
Not counting the time he had been drugged before regaining consciousness, Tim Kenn
