Ianto lay flat on his back in the grass, listening to birdsong.
A skylark, so high above him it was almost invisible, trilled its sweet song while swifts swooped low across the meadow, shrilling their call and snatching up the insects buzzing around him.
In a copse a short distance away, he could hear crows and magpies squabbling, a dove cooing. Nearer to hand, in the hedgerow a few metres away, the ticking of a robin sounded surprisingly loud.
All was silent, except for the birds.
The aliens were long gone.
He hoped Jack would come and untie him soon.