CHAPTER SIX

I drop my cutlery for a moment so that I can look directly at him when I speak my mind. His eyes are the lightest orange I have seen them be so far. It is as though a layer of glass or coating of clear acrylic has been put over them to make them appear more welcoming and more hopeful. “I did not come to you. I was hiking up the mountain and you tricked me with a cat. I came to a clearing and when I saw you, I lost consciousness.”

The right corner of his lips tilts up slightly in a partial smile. “That clearing is my door. You knocked.”

“If I knocked then I should be allowed to leave without hassle, should I not?” I ask. With the way the corner of his lips rises a little higher, I see that he is truly amused by what I just said. Clearly, my words are getting to him and I must be making an impression. That thought makes me a little happy.

“You are my prisoner,” he says finally. “I will tell you when I want you to leave.”

I don’t respond to that. Perhaps because of the manner in which he