O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?
--Wordsworth
4:45 A.M. My head was no longer throbbing when I came to, but my jaw
ached and my mouth tasted of old blood.
I was lying on the couch, my arms tied behind me and my feet fastened
together at the ankles with my own belt.
I could hear Spookie and Joy talking in the tiny kitchen. It was dark
outside, with just a tinge of dawn in the sky.