There was light. To some extent I took it for granted, but the fact that light from the small window, high on the wall of the cellar that was my home, should penetrate the blanket that covered my cage, would, by many, have been regarded as unusual and welcome. I’d been taken as a slave late in the spring so I had only known the summer months in my night time prison. It did not take a great deal of imagination to know how dull, dark and uninviting this place would be in the dark days of winter.
It was presumably the light that had awoken me. How I’d ever trained myself to sleep in the confines of this cage were beyond me, but somehow I had. A very tight foetal position was the obvious initial attempt, but for some reason, it did not work. My body had somehow found a way, although I had to rely on nature to take over each night for me to repeat that particular formula. It worked and I slept. Unfortunately the constant pain in my lower back was the price I paid during my days of toil.