The light was coming from the old forester's hut in the woods. The hut had lain derelict for as long as I could remember, secured by a heavy chain and a rusted padlock. The windows were curtained with heavy, black material to prevent prying eyes seeing inside. But here was a light winking in the night. At least one of those curtains must have been removed. But by whom? And why?
The following morning I made my way to the hut. Just as I had thought the black-out curtain had been removed from one grimy window. To my surprise there, on a filthy tarpaulin, a man in his early twenties lay fast asleep. He was bruised and cut. I didn't know what to make of him.