His head was pounding when he awoke. His body was riddled with aches and pains. The sun through the palm frond roof was bright and when he focused on his surroundings, he saw jungle on every side. He sat up against the pole he was chained to, squinting against the stab of pain at his temples. Through the trees he could see other huts like the one he was in—low mud walls with only wooden support beams between the top of the wall and the palm frond roof. In such a hot environment it was the ideal construction. There was a low wall to keep the wildlife out and plenty of space for any breezes to blow through. In the distance, at what he imagined to be the edge of the village, was a large wall made of poles with pointed tips.
He could remember very little of how he had come to be where he was.
