My head was pounding. The world was spinning. I felt exhausted, but the one thing I could note I wasn’t in a bed. I wasn’t in a warm room full of familiar scents and comforts. The floor was hard and cold beneath me. I smell stale water and stone much like the cell I had been held in. Was I back there?
My eyes burned. Had I gone through all of that with nothing to show for it?
Then, a familiar scent hit my nose: warm, a little musky and bright with just a tinge of the scent of whiskey.
It was Candido. Was he here?
I craned my head left and then right, hoping to see him, but I couldn’t focus. The world kept going in and out like my eyes couldn’t adjust to the light. I turned again, but all I saw were two wooden chairs that looked like they were better off as firewood, a cold fireplace,
