Sixteen
I’m Underground. I’m pretty sure of it. I have that same uneasy feeling I got when Nate and I found ourselves in the labyrinth. There’s also the fact that I’m standing in a tunnel.
I don’t like tunnels.
I write a doorway onto the wall. It works. Good, at least I’ll be able to get out of here once I’ve learned something useful. I brush my hand against the sandy surface of the wall and take a few hesitant steps forward. Torches are set into the wall at regular intervals, their flickering green flames casting eerie shadows throughout the tunnel. Everything is dry, but it smells oddly like wet earth after a summer rain. It’s a smell I find comforting; all the more reason not to trust it.
A piercing screech. Wings flapping. I duck, covering my head with an invisible shield. I start
