He opened his eyes, finding nothing but darkness. He tested the movement of his arms and legs, and found they were tightly bound. Shifting his head from side to side, the old Náhuatl determined that something—a rubbery plastic—had been stretched over his eyes. He was not gagged, which indicated to the nauallis that there was no one within shouting distance. In any case, he did not like to make noise when he could not see who might be listening. On my own, am I? Hummingbird shifted his shoulders, feeling walls on either side. A closet perhaps? But they were in a hurry—I am still wearing my skinsuit. The old Náhuatl twisted his head from side to side, testing the limits of his ability to move. Discovering that both knees could reach his chin, he managed to roll forward gently and get both feet beneath him. Then, Hummingbird stood up slowly and found the roof of the confined space less than a meter above his resting position. A bit cramped, but then I am not the largest of men. He twisted one shoulder around to bring the sealing strip of the skinsuit within range of his lips and then spent a good fifteen minutes trying to catch the recessed plastic tab in his teeth.
