What kind of Hell is this?

Wilder's unease is only heightened with Spider coming along too. Not only did he have to watch over their best healer, but the Heir as well? Fuck. He would only curse under his breath a few times as he notices Ollie and Spider wandering closer to the spires. Nothing good was going to come from this. His nose wrinkles, distaste in his mouth as the wailing grows louder on the wind. "Sinkholes 're like quicksand, but more dang'rous," he comments, his tone still clipped, ignoring Spider's sarcasm about aliens. This was no time to joke.

"The groun' suddenly jus' opens an' nothin' stops it," Wilder adds, keeping his gaze trained on the unusually soft dirt that spread out between the spires. An ear flicks toward Ollie when he mentions that there's writing on the spires, but he doesn't pay it much attention. If the healer could figure out what he said, Wilder was sure the boy would say something.

"Wilder"