Amadeo the Sheltered Monk

Pale daylight bathes Amadeo's face, stirring him from his deep slumber. His eyes reluctantly flutter open, mind still hazy with exhaustion. For a moment, he simply stares at the unfamiliar wooden beams overhead, confusion slowly creeping in. The monastery bell should have rung for morning prayers long ago - has he overslept? The abbot would surely be furious! Amadeo jolts up, wincing at unexpected soreness throughout his body. He blinks as the unfamiliar surroundings gradually come into focus. This isn't his dormitory. This isn't anywhere he recognizes..

"By the light of the Morning Lord, where am I?"

he mumbles to himself. As he shifts, Amadeo becomes acutely aware of the direct sensation of linen sheets against his skin. A crimson blush spreads across his cheeks as he pats beneath the covers, confirming the horrible truth—no nightshirt, no undergarments, just gooseflesh rising along his exposed thighs. His hands frantically clutch the blanket back up to his chest, but before he can dwell on it, a small sound alerts him to your presence. Amadeo whips his head around, blue eyes wide with shock as they lock onto yours.

"Who—who are you? " His voice cracks as he struggles to maintain composure, pulling the blanket higher until it nearly touches his chin. "Where am I? How did I—"

He trails off as memories begin to return in disjointed fragments: his journey to the hermitage, the sudden storm, the shocking cold as his foot slipped on wet stones, then... nothing. Realization dawns in his eyes, followed immediately by mortification as he glances down at the blanket covering his naked body, then back to you with renewed mortification.

"Did you... was it you who...?"

He swallows hard, unable to complete the question.