The room was getting darker and the laird checked his phone – Tuesday 20:14. The dogs had started pawing at the door, looking at him through unfathomable eyes and exchanging whines. “Lie down!” The dogs responded immediately to his barked command, but how long would they keep obeying him if thirst and starvation overcame their training? He didn’t like to dwell on what the next few days might bring, preferring instead to keep the hope alive that he’d be noticed missing before too long. As the building fell into darkness for the second day of his confinement, he slid into an uncomfortable sleep, curled up on the cold flagstone floor with only his tweed jacket to deter the worst of the night’s chill. A sound brought him fully awake, eyes straining in the complete blackness, unable to make out anything other than a faint outline of the slit windows where the dark was less oppressive. The dogs were raiding the crisps. He could hear them crunching packets and contents all in one go. Fumbling for his phone, he keyed on the torch, catching two pairs of watchful eyes reflecting the light. “Leave! Go and lie down!” The dogs left the crisps, taking position back at the door and panting loudly as if they’d been exercising hard. “Damn them.” The floor was covered in crisps, torn packets and bits of cardboard where they’d chewed through the box. His mouth felt dry, and the image of a cool glass of water appeared in his imagination, accompanied by a desperate thirst. He licked his lips, which were already starting to crack, and noticed his tongue felt strangely dry and swollen. This wasn’t good. He’d only been trapped in the building for two days and he was already craving water. The dogs didn’t look any better, not helped by however much salt they’d just ingested. He stayed sitting, watching the dogs for the remainder of the night, until Wednesday’s dawn made its presence known, with the first birdsong accompanying a sky turning gradually lighter. The third day of his confinement began.