33 Frost 120
Faine stood, alone, at the mouth of The First Deep's yawning entrance. The sum of their experience, their years of travelling and learning and surviving, had culminated to this singular task.
They could all but hear Mother's voice worrying away in their head. "I should tell you this is utter foolishness, because it is. That even if you were to find the damned thing it would change nothing. That you risk life and limb for a myth, a bit of gossip passed along in taverns. And yet..."
And yet, Faine knew that if Mother were still alive, she would be standing right beside them, shovel in one hand and a sword in the other.
"May you watch over me,"the Fae sighed,"so that my foolish arse lives to see another day."
Then they set forth into the darkness, refusing to look back for fear that they would lose their nerve once and for all.
It did not take long for the sway of their lantern to cast dancing shadows against the cave walls—the only semblances of life to keep Faine company. Fortunately for the hermit, living alone for so long had conditioned them to silence and loneliness, though the air within the caves felt significantly more oppressive than that of the mountains.
A few twists and turns later, the entrance opened up to a much larger cavern, complete with dots of glowing fungi across slick, dark stone. Faine could even hear and taste water in the air, the outlines of small waterfalls and pools illuminated by the fungi. It was here, in the alien yet tranquil terrain, that they drew their dagger from its sheath, eyes narrowed in suspicion. New as they were to the Warrens and its innumerable secrets, Faine had heard enough stories to know that caution was essential to their survival.
Their progress slowed considerably, due to both the wet rocks and foreboding feeling of being watched. Faine was not entirely sure whether it was a good or bad sign that they had yet to see another soul. They only knew that if they did not keep moving forward, their feet might very well start turning back of their own volition.
Steeling their resolve, the Fae decided to walk a little faster. Their practiced eyes scanned vigilantly to pick out safer routes while their knuckles turned pale from how hard they clutched their dagger.
Something fell behind them. Faine stopped and turned, just in time to see a small rock rolling to a halt some ten paces away. They almost exhaled in relief. But then their eyes, straining to see past the lantern light, traced the rock's trajectory back to a pair of lumpy, misshaped feet. Faine instinctively took a step back, recoiling in horror. The thing standing before them was a mass of flesh and limbs so poorly put together that it made no sense as to how it was even alive.
As if hearing these thoughts, the grotesque creature let loose a terrible gargling in its throat before lunging, limbs and all, at the horrified Fae.
Faine leapt back to avoid the first haphazard swing, but they knew that dodging would land them on their backside sooner or later. The rocks below were slippery and the light of their lantern limited; it was only a matter of time before they made a grave misstep.
So it was that when the second swing came, Faine chose to answer in kind. They sank their dagger hilt deep into the offending limb before yanking it back out as fast as they could, blood more black than red oozing freely from the wound. The creature fell back, moaning in pain. But it was not deterred, only delayed, and shambled sideways to find a better opening to take down its prey.
Monster and Fae were so focused on their fight that they both failed to notice a growing shadow in the background, its bloody maw gnashing in anticipation of not one but two meals for the taking.
Common ❀Valasren
