The Fickle Winds of Autumn

Kira’s miserable knees sang out and complained of their pain and raw grazes. Her back and neck ached from the unending time spent crawling through the cramped inscrutable darkness. Her stiff, bruised arms and shoulders joined in with the objection, but the roof and walls of the tunnel squeezed in on her from all around; the taut, dense weight bore down on her almost as heavily as the impossible nocturnal blackness which squashed and crushed her slender hopes and frame.

“We should rest for a little while now,” said Ellis from behind her. “Just to give our knees a chance to recover and let Aldwyn catch up.”

She had been aware of Ellis scrabbling along - his occasional groans of discomfort resonated close to her heels - but it was still a relief to hear his voice again through the disconsolate, impenetrable gloom which entombed them.

She turned over and stretched out flat on her back. The hard, unfeeling chill of the tunnel floor shivered up through the tattered rags of her tunic - but at least she could rest - at least her strangled limbs could flex and extend and gather some relief from the pressure of supporting her drooping head.

The sound of her shallow, stifled breath bounced back close into her face. Her empty stomach growled; a bleak thirst burned though her; a malevolent urge brooded - a deep desire to escape the binding clutches of the tunnel; she fought it back - there was no prospect of finding any respite soon.

And the darkness.

Everywhere the ruinous, menacing darkness.

The relentless, suffocating corruption that engulfed them had seeped its way into every pore of her being; its musty smell, its thick hopelessness; even the dirt that worked its way into her unwilling mouth, tasted of the gritty, crushing, unending blackness.

A scrabbling groan from the depths beyond Ellis informed her that Aldwyn had caught up.

Ellis was right about him.

Aldwyn had been flagging further and further behind the other two - and when he did catch up to them, he said very little and seemed distracted, lost in his own thoughts somewhere - even more so than usual.

Perhaps it was just tiredness, or his age?

Perhaps the cruel stress and incessant futility of the situation was preying on him?

The long cramped twisting days spent wedged down the ravenous gullet of a mountain had sapped his energy and enthusiasm?

Just as it had done to her.

And then besides, why shouldn’t he be quiet?NôvelDrama.Org © content.

What was there really to say?

A little while back, Ellis had asked him about it, but simply received the usual reply that his “old bones” were fatigued and weary of crawling.

But Ellis knew his master better than she did, and if he was concerned, then perhaps there was something more sinister to worry about?

But what could they do about it?

There was no food or water here.

They could rest more frequently - but this only delayed any hope of eventually escaping the dismal, ominous dark.

No - they must press on while they still had any strength left at all - or risk languishing and being entombed there forever.

She reached into her tunic and touched Harath’s feather.

There was no way her friend had intended to punish her in this endless, claustrophobic way.

But at least Ellis and Aldwyn were still with her.

When they had still been able to stand, Ellis had sometimes touched her shoulder to indicate they should rest or wait for Aldwyn - the kindness of his companionship had pressed into her through the warmth of his hand; a ripple of hope had ebbed through her.

But the last time they had been able to walk upright seemed such a long time ago now - and the pinching, stooping crush of the tunnel had deprived her even of that slender consolation and comfort.

If she ever got out of this wretched, unfathomable, tortuous maze of unforgiving rock, she would never complain about having to walk anywhere again - it was far more comfortable than crawling.

“Well, we should probably start moving again,” said Ellis wearily.

Kira grimaced and turned over to crawl into the blinding depths of the darkness. Her scratched knees and bruised palms jabbed and throbbed with pain - but they must press forward - there could be no hope of turning around and heading back to the cave and the waterfall now.

And if she gave up, the other two would be imprisoned behind her, unable to squeeze past in the constricting cruelty of stone - she could not afford to let them down.

The brutal roof curved and squashed down even tighter into her back.

She crept on, low, compressed to the cold ground.

She scrabbled forward; her head collided with the steep, sloping hardness of the roof; her nose was forced down; her face scraped along the dark, ancient fissures; the sour fragmented odour of the bitter rock bruised into her.

Her desperate fingers groped dimly in front; they rasped against a rough barrier of stone; a tremor of hopeless fear shocked through her; she caught her breath and pushed and fumbled and searched - but the narrow, tapering way forward was blocked.

“Ellis!” she said as loudly as she could without being able to turn her head around.

“It’s a dead end! I think we’re trapped!”