Sesquidrabble based on One-Sentence Stories, chapter 2: Dark.
He woke to darkness.
Trying to move, he realized bonds had appeared around his wrists and ankles. What had happened? Where was he? He tried to roll over, and failed at even that, the pounding in his head reaching a crescendo.
Resisting the urge to groan and laying still to let the pain subside, he tried to focus his vision, a difficult thing with a concussion. Blackness, no matter how hard he strained. A vague sort of fear shot through him, and he strained harder. He had to see.
"Awake?" the whisper barely reached his ears in time with another spike in pain, and he didn't completely stifle the groan that time. A faint sigh of relief reached him, and fingers brushed his wrist.
"The light broke," again, the whisper was barely audible, "but I know the way."
His bonds loosened, but his sigh of relief had a different cause.