Slowly, Lindley moved deeper into the tunnel while his eyes gradually adjusted to the darker tunnel. Stony walls, detached stones, and scuttling insects appeared before him in subtle shades of black. He was fearful but steeled his heart. He knew there was no other choice than to find another way out of this tunnels. So, he forged ahead.

A short distant away, he saw two massive stone doors on the opposite sides of the hall-like passage, both closed. He had no idea what was behind those giant doors but knew there were usually more than one way out of underground tunnels.

There was no harm in seeing what was behind those doors, was it? Well, there was no other path ahead. But how was he going to open the latch to the doors. It was way too high.

Then, he saw the tall statue, hewn of red jasper, beside the doors. If he could use the statue as a ladder, he should be able to open the door. Spurred on by renewed hope, he felt for crevices and protrusions and started inching his way up the statue.

Although he couldn't feel much pain on his right shoulder, his thigh still hurt. He found it difficult to use. He had landed on his right shoulder on the heap of straws. Despite chewing some herbal leaves, a slight discomfort was still lingering on his shoulder.

As he reached the back of the statue, he perceived a peculiar odour in the air, sharp and metallic, like the scent of the air before a lightning storm. The hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably. It was at this moment that he began to suspect he was not alone in the tunnel.

He stayed for nearly five minutes like a frozen statue on the back of the stone statue. No sound reached his ears, yet the hair at the nape of his neck slowly prickled upward, and he found himself turning his head around to stare into the dark tunnel behind him.

Something was out there! Something deadly!

Lindley touched the hilt of the longsword on his back, reassuring himself with its wooden feel. The sword was as good as any steel sword but he was still a beginner in the use of swords. His father was still teaching him the basic stances.

If it was something beyond his level, he was as good as dead. He shook his head as he resisted the impulse to draw the weapon. he would wait until he had discerned the nature of the threat.

Carefully, silently, Lindley continued climbing up the back of the statue. Now he climbed with utmost stealth, creeping slowly upward, not making the slightest whisper of sound.

Yet he could not escape the disturbing knowledge that something was out there in the darkness. He hadn't been a herbal gatherer all his life not to pick up few things on his own. It was called basic survival instinct.

After gaining some height, Lindley froze again, still no warning reached any of his senses to confirm the existence of the threat. Yet he needed no confirmation. He was so convinced that some dire creature lurked in the darkness, and that dire creature was almost certainly coming for him.

As he climbed higher, the prickling on the back of his neck remained. He hastened his steps, ignoring the faint sounds he made as he broke into a fast climb but still, the feeling stayed with him.

He stopped suddenly and listened, but again he heard no sound from the darkness surrounding him. Could he be imagining things? Now he was in an unknown tunnel under the plains of Pridon, admittedly a terrifying place, in darkest of nights! It only seemed natural that his nerves would play tricks on him.

And then, a low but deep squeal emerged from the darkness behind him. Immediately, he knew he was in danger.

Fear thrummed through him—fear such as he had never known. It became a dread panic that rooted him to the back of the statue and clouded the already hazy senses of his eyes and ears. The pounding of his heart echoed through his brain and seemed to reverberate into the tunnel itself.

Whatever was out there squealed again, and Lindley could sense it. The squeal had been soft and deep.

All of a sudden, Lindley knew that the thing out there was some kind of rat but couldn't wrap his head around that fact. It was like the sound of a rat, yet not like a rat—indeed not like anything he had ever heard.

Clinging to the statue, he tried to look around. It had aspects of a great rodent in its squeal, and Lindley began to picture a giant rat ready to attack.

Slowly but forcefully, Lindley began to gain control of his frayed nerves. He recalled the basic lessons he had learned from his father many years ago which proved useful to him in his forest foraging life.

With urgency, he began climbing with more energy. After another squeal sounded too close to where he was, he stopped climbing and glanced at the dark tunnel behind him. Then, he saw the eyes.

Two great red orbs stared at her from the darkness. Each seemed as large as a melon. They remained upon Lindley, unblinking, as he clung to the back of the statue. The eyes continued to bore into him, and he felt the cold bile of terror rising in his throat.

After his heart reduced its pounding, once again Lindley began to climb. he began to wonder what he would do after scaling the statue to the top, where the four-footed squealing beast would be unable to pursue him.

What if the creature decided to stay at the bottom and wait for him to come down?

Still thinking frantically, he felt with his fingers to find a handhold above his head. At last he found a grip, and he quickly pulled himself upward.

Now came another squeal from the darkness. This time it was deep and heavy. It rumbled off the tunnel and echoed through the silence with a deadly resonance. The creature inched out of the darkness, closer to the brighter area of the tunnel, towards the statue.