<div class="floatright">(http://i207.photobucket.com/albums/bb117/hopefox17/Marano1.png)</div>Katul slowly stirred out of his deep sleep, his muscles aching from yesterday's battle. He didn't remember very much of it, but he knew that he had come through it unscathed though exhaused - so exhausted that neither of his wives had been able to interest him in anything beyond a warm blanket and their warm bodies beside him as he slept.<br/><br/>He still felt warm, but it was not the warmth of sharing a blanket with two women. He forced his eyes open, and realised that something was terribly wrong. There was no dawn, no wind, no fresh air in his nose. With a start, he reached out and scrabbled at the surface underneath him, expecting to feel furs or grass. Instead, he found grit and stone.<br/><br/>Katul started to panic. He was a creature of the open plains, riding miles every day, rarely camping in the same spot twice. Caves were for dwarves and city dwellers, not nomads like him. He reached out and patted the stone around him as his eyes slowly adjusted to the torchlight, hoping to find something familiar. He found nothing.<br/><br/>He slowly brought his emotions under control. He was a chief, after all, and he did not gain his position by collapsing under pressure. Slowly, he sat up and peered around at the alcove in which he found himself. There was a large cavern beyond a screen of rocks, and he was certain he could percieve movement in the cavern. He drew himself up into a sitting position and took stock of his situation. A quick pat-down of his own body showed that he was intact, but naked and unarmed. That was a problem. He closed his eyes and tried to summon an owl-spirit into his body to lend him better vision in the darkness, but nothing heeded his call.<br/><br/>Breathing carefully, he began to search the alcove. At the very least, he might be able to find a sharp rock to use as a weapon as he made his way out of this prison.