He wakes and finds himself in a constricted space, unable to move his arms. Are they tied?
His nerves scream a warning: Don’t! Convulsively, he inhales and warns himself again, carefully, deliberately: Don’t lash out, until you know where you are.
Clean air. A pillow underneath his head. A familiar presence, stirring. A weight lifts off his chest. The constriction eases. His arms are free.
A beloved voice asking, worriedly: ‘What is it?’
He cannot see anything, but that is only because there is no light.
‘Nothing’, he says firmly, reaches out and draws Findekano’s arm back across his chest.