Seeing didn't really help at all. I had no idea where I was.
Even after my brain caught up, a good thirty or forty seconds later, reminding me of the sandy-haired man and the syringe, I couldn't make sense of the dark expanse of nothingness that surrounded me...or how cold I was.
Directly overhead, black, snakelike branches partially blocked a faint view of stars. The sky still seemed to be tinged on either side from the glow of city lights. I was outside. My back dug into something hard, and my arms were wrenched behind me, feeling like they were about to be ripped out of their shoulder sockets. I was cold because all I wore was the skirt and the lace top over a tank top. My jacket was gone.
I tried to move, to see if there was any play in any of my limbs. As soon as I shifted my leg though, I let out an involuntary moan. My body slipped sideways down whatever it had been tied to, wrenching my arms and shoulders even more. Whatever they'd bound me to, it was long and rounded...like a log, maybe. When I tried to move again, I slid more, and the pressure on my arms and legs became excruciating. At the same time, my own weight rendered me pretty much immobile, making it even harder to find leverage.
Which had to mean the log was suspended somehow. I was at least a few feet off the ground, and my arms and legs had been cuffed to the log itself, otherwise I'd just slide all the way down to the ground. I tried using my eyes to see where I was, who else was there, but all I glimpsed was shadowy forms and more trees. What looked like a white, stone basin stood to my left. Around it had been piled a number of shadowy objects with square corners and pointed edges. It looked too symmetrical to be natural, whatever it was. Someone was squirting something on it while I watched, but I couldn't see their face.
"Where am I...?" I managed. I had to stop midway, swallowing thickly. My tongue still didn't want to work right. "...Who's there? Please! Can you hear me?"
"Relax, Ms. Taylor."
Recognizing the voice, I felt my stomach sink.
Ponytail guy.
A match was struck not far from where I lay. Whoever held it threw it towards the ground before I could make out their face, but the match didn't complete its arc. Instead it bounced halfway, in the shadowy pile heaped around the stone basin.
There was a whup sound, like a heater turning on. Flames shot up from the piles around the basin, illuminating a stack of packing crates and wooden pallets, wet with starter fuel. I found myself blinking into a large campfire arranged around the stone basin in some kind of shape. The edges of the fire were bounded by granite stones, but I could see spokes coming off, too, almost like a wheel. From the fire's size, and the burning, rectangular pallets, it reminded me of the beach parties we had at home. It burned high enough that a wave of heat washed over me, initially providing some relief from the cold.