For a time following the scream and the old, unfamiliar voice, there came nothing but the ragged, wheezing sounds of strangled lungs gradually going accustomed to a now steady supply of air. Still half-sitting in the dirt, the not-corpse now identifiable as a man bowed over, coughing and gagging until something thick and wet dislodged from his throat. It sank into the disturbed soil and left behind an old, coppery taste in the man's mouth. Nothing seemed to come after it, however, and the minutes ticked by as he followed the command of that strange voice.
Calm and breathe.
The man gradually grew aware of his limbs and a dull tingling there, as though the circulation had been cut off for some time and was now rushing back into place. He flexed dirt-caked hands, feeling a soreness in his fingers and shuddered at a sudden recollection of awakening beneath that grave. He recalled thinking of fire, but could not pinpoint why; it left him with the heavy weight of dread and a strange sense of inexplicable resignation.
The dirt shifted around the man as his body moved in a renewed desperation, seeking to escape fully whatever trap had sought to consume him. In the shadows, he caught glimpses of a lurching, gangly tree that, at another glance, became the thin form of a person, shriveled and bowed. Legs kicked, weakly at first and then, as the soil loosened, with sudden fervor until his whole body burst free of the grave, leaving him to roll away to one side and pant against the ground.
A low groan escaped the man's throat, raspy as though he hadn't spoken in years. Chapped, dirt-stained lips moved as though to form words, perhaps of thanks or confusion, but nothing could quite make it in the face of the shadows, with a once-grave at his back.
Calm and breathe.
The man gradually grew aware of his limbs and a dull tingling there, as though the circulation had been cut off for some time and was now rushing back into place. He flexed dirt-caked hands, feeling a soreness in his fingers and shuddered at a sudden recollection of awakening beneath that grave. He recalled thinking of fire, but could not pinpoint why; it left him with the heavy weight of dread and a strange sense of inexplicable resignation.
The dirt shifted around the man as his body moved in a renewed desperation, seeking to escape fully whatever trap had sought to consume him. In the shadows, he caught glimpses of a lurching, gangly tree that, at another glance, became the thin form of a person, shriveled and bowed. Legs kicked, weakly at first and then, as the soil loosened, with sudden fervor until his whole body burst free of the grave, leaving him to roll away to one side and pant against the ground.
A low groan escaped the man's throat, raspy as though he hadn't spoken in years. Chapped, dirt-stained lips moved as though to form words, perhaps of thanks or confusion, but nothing could quite make it in the face of the shadows, with a once-grave at his back.
![[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
