There was time only for a confused huff when the Duskwight paused, and then the ground the miqo'te stood upon crumbled. He let out a shout, grasping at debris that fell with him, and hit the earth below with a heavy grunt. His tail folded painfully beneath him as he stared up at the now impossibly small and far hole, moonlight piercing through enough to cast a thin line of white across his chest.
He heard the Duskwight's words, shuddered, and a roar of protest burst from his lungs. How dare he send him back to the earth, back into the darkness with the worms and old, dead things! The mud-caked man writhed at the bottom of this new pit, rolled to one side, and reached up to claw at the wet, root-riddled walls, clumps of soil tearing free in his hands.
Thunder cracked above, with a violence that seemed to shake the walls and floor of the earthy cage, and the the man fell back to the ground. Images of ravenous beasts flashed across the back of his skull, their forms illuminated by the faint moonlight peeking through the gap above, and he growled in confusion.
He could try to drag himself out of this pit, just like he'd done with the first, he realized, but the forest in its incomprehensible rage would be waiting. Yet it wouldn't find him in this hole? Was this not where it wanted him? What reason did he have to trust the old Duskwight?
But then, a better question would be: What better choice did he have?
Cracked nails dug into dirty palms, grinding the mud deep into the seams of his skin as he glared upwards and waited.
He heard the Duskwight's words, shuddered, and a roar of protest burst from his lungs. How dare he send him back to the earth, back into the darkness with the worms and old, dead things! The mud-caked man writhed at the bottom of this new pit, rolled to one side, and reached up to claw at the wet, root-riddled walls, clumps of soil tearing free in his hands.
Thunder cracked above, with a violence that seemed to shake the walls and floor of the earthy cage, and the the man fell back to the ground. Images of ravenous beasts flashed across the back of his skull, their forms illuminated by the faint moonlight peeking through the gap above, and he growled in confusion.
He could try to drag himself out of this pit, just like he'd done with the first, he realized, but the forest in its incomprehensible rage would be waiting. Yet it wouldn't find him in this hole? Was this not where it wanted him? What reason did he have to trust the old Duskwight?
But then, a better question would be: What better choice did he have?
Cracked nails dug into dirty palms, grinding the mud deep into the seams of his skin as he glared upwards and waited.
![[Image: AntiThalSig.png]](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/179079766/AntiThalSig.png)
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki
