He'd been dreading this. And expecting it. Ever since the last collapse. Ever since that message from the sky.
He grabbed only his knife, small and close at hand, and started running, the ground roaring and shifting beneath his feet. He didn't look, didn't stop to think, just let instinct guide him. He expects to die. Is ready for the freezing water, the crushing ice, the bitter end, and when the shelf beneath him buckled, he was ready....
But not to be tossed on his backside, to bounce and roll across the ice as the great chunk heaved. To be tossed, unbelievably, within sight of the glittering Cornucopia.
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He grabbed only his knife, small and close at hand, and started running, the ground roaring and shifting beneath his feet. He didn't look, didn't stop to think, just let instinct guide him. He expects to die. Is ready for the freezing water, the crushing ice, the bitter end, and when the shelf beneath him buckled, he was ready....
But not to be tossed on his backside, to bounce and roll across the ice as the great chunk heaved. To be tossed, unbelievably, within sight of the glittering Cornucopia.