Mark felt a chill on his back and then opened his eyes, his body felt stiff and his eyes felt like they had been injected with oil. He was exhausted and hungry.
The roof of the place was of weak concrete and from it dripped water that had been falling on him–the drops prompted his wake.
He sat up and held his arms around his leg in an embryonic position, and he looked to his side where he saw metal bars that had him restrained.
He let out a sigh once he saw them and looked up to the wet roof. Mark couldn't tell whether it was dawn or dusk. Little light came from a window of the larger room his jail was situated in, though it was enough to make out his situation.
He had been made unconscious that night and the soldiers stripped all that was on him as a security exercise, he had little on him and couldn't imagine that to have taken long.
His belt of greater will was gone, and so was Flit.
