What kind of Hell is this?

Oleander tilts his head to peer closer to the spire, noting Spider's observation himself. "Huh." He said to Wilder's definition of sinkhole. "Huh..." He said again to the strange etchings on the spire. He lifted his head to glance over at another base of the spike, letting his paws lead him over the soft ground toward it, then moved the strange foliage aside.

"Hey, this one has its face rubbed off or something. It's like it got more worn." He mused to the others, wondering if they noticed anything else about the spikes and the crazy red sky. Maybe he can grab his brother and explore some more.

"Speech"