buried alive

Everything was boring lately. The rest of the family were out and about, living their lives. Everyone except for the poor shaman in training. Still recovering emotionally from the trauma of the island of scaled devils, there was little hope of going far from where the rest of the family had holed up. Regardless, there was desperation to be out and seeing the world. Thus, she had set off to see what she could see. At ten months old, she was nearly as tall as her mother, and so she had very little to fear from strangers.

A strange, eerie singing was coming from the mouth of this cave. It drew the champagne child like a moth to a flame. Perhaps the gods were trying to draw her close, whisper their tales into her ears. Teacher had told her about holy places, perhaps this was one of them. Oversized paws thumped carelessly towards the entrance, heedless in the dark. What was there to fear?

The thump of someone else's paws, of course.

"Hello?" The youth called, as she wandered further into the caves. The haunting, sonorous voices continued. Whatever they might be saying was a mystery to the child. The gods spoke in tongues.

walk "Talk" think