Fiona’s POV.
When I come to, I’m not in a grassy field or in the manor. I’m lying on the wooden floors in a small room with high windows and no furniture other than the plush red couch and a wooden chair in one corner of the room.
It’s cold, colder than it even was outside, goosebumps rise on my arm and my teeth chatter against each other, every inch of this place reeks of a foul stench I can’t quite place.
I spend my first few moments staring blankly at the roof beams, I’m dazed and confused and a little woozy, but eventually the confusion eases into a slight panic and I try to sit up, a big mistake as that small movement causes pain to shoot from the right side of my neck. I groan and place my palm on the spot that throbs aggressively, there’s a wound there and as I trace the two odd
