Iestyn had fallen into a fitful sleep after they were both left alone all day. He lay on his side because his back hurt, although the fire of the fresh wounds was being replaced by the ache and pull of slowly healing ones. Neither of them had enough nutrition for it to heal quickly.
The soft fingers in his hair was soothing, reminding him of the way his mother used to wake him on a Sunday to get up for church. His eyelids fluttered, and he remembered where he was, and that nobody good would be able to touch him. His eyes flew open and he jerked back, not managing to suppress a hiss of pain.