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    Cross swam in and out of consciousness.  He remembered being nursed back to health .  His wounds were stitched together, and healing salves were applied to his skin.  He was wrapped in warm furs and put near a fire. 
    He was no longer caged.  There was no need: he was barely conscious, and when awake his mind drifted through haze.  It occurred to him they’d drugged him, that they fed him some alchemical medicine or else filled the air with mind-altering fumes.  Either way he was barely cognizant.  Everything seemed distant.  He felt adrift. 
    He slept and ate in the small cave.  His strength slowly returned as he healed.  His world consisted of jagged obsidian walls riddled with tiny holes dripping oily water into the corners.  The floor was covered with wolf and bear hides.  White frost mist filled the air, which smelled of melted silver and burning roses. 
    Cross had fitful dreams of the man he ’d killed.  When he sliced the man apart in his dreams, his own heart exploded in his chest and spurted thick dark blood that stained his insides. 
    He woke to the sensation of the blonde woman touching him.  He was kissing her, and didn’t even remember her arrival.  He knew it was wrong, knew they’d brought him here for this.  He’d been pit against their other, their old male, to see which of them was stronger. 
    Her breasts pressed against his scarred chest, and the cold of her flesh burned, but Cross wasn’t in control of himself, could just look on, a spectator, not sure if he would have been able to resist her even if he had been in control.  Body aching, he found himself virulent and eager, and he knew from the start that whatever they’d drugged him with to keep him compliant also enhanced his stamina, because he made violent love to the blonde woman, needful, angry.  His body ached worse when they were done, and he was covered in fingernail marks.
    The drug persisted.  The other women came to him, one at a time.  He wasn’t sure how much time passed between visits, or how he was able to maintain their needs.  His body twisted with pleasure and pain.  Juices ran and pooled on the wolf hides.  His nostrils filled with the aroma of women and sex, blood and saliva.  After a time he faded, bone weary and exhausted.
     
    They kept him there, drugged and alone.  He was given time to recuperate before they started in again.
    Do they want children? he wondered. 
    It was hard to think clearly .  He remembered a time when he’d frequented the brothels in Thornn, when women, who he’d always had trouble relating to, could only be purchased.  Some years ago this situation – being trapped in a cave and used by three ravenous women for their carnal pleasure – would have been a dream come true.
    He had to get out.  He had to save someone…but it was difficult to remember her name.  He saw her face, beautiful and pale, dark red hair hanging down over gem-blue eyes.  She was in pain, he knew she was in pain, but he couldn’t do anything to help her.  She was just out of reach, just like…
    Just like who?
    It was so hard to remember.
    The y came again, one and then the next, never together.  Their need was more anxious, their treatment of him less kind.  He could do nothing to stop them, even though he wanted to.  His lust was overpowering, and even as his mind raged at him to rebel, to dash their heads against the stone and seize their weapons, he couldn’t.  He was theirs, completely and utterly.  He didn’t even know how they drugged him.
    Maybe they don ’t need to anymore , he thought.  Maybe they’ve broken me, and I just don’t realize it yet. 
    Hair dangled across his face and rough nails tore open his back.  His skin was raw and bloody and covered in puss and stains.  They stitch ed him back together afterwards.  Black threads tightly bound his wounds.  He couldn’t lie back, for his skin ached too much. 
    H e tried to stand when they were gone, but he