Tim has taken refuge in what he hopes is an empty cave, after seeing a worm breech several stories out of the sand and nearly land on the side of the mountain. It seemed like a good idea to begin with, but he's read The Hobbit a few too many times and refuses to stay inside a cave that he hasn't examined the end of.
The tunnel's stretched out so long that Tim has stopped along the way, using rope to strap the staff across his back and holding the scythe at chest-level instead. It feels off, somehow, and joking thoughts of orcs have been replaced with real concerns of muttations and whether or not baby sandworms live in dens.
He can hear something moving ahead, the soft sounds echoing down the stone walls even when Tim stops moving, breathing. If he can hear it, it can hear him, and fleeing footsteps would only give a beast the notion that prey was near.
There's something in the darkness ahead, and Tim can make out a few long glints, like thin, wet teeth several feet long.
Setting this at the tail end of the worms.
The tunnel's stretched out so long that Tim has stopped along the way, using rope to strap the staff across his back and holding the scythe at chest-level instead. It feels off, somehow, and joking thoughts of orcs have been replaced with real concerns of muttations and whether or not baby sandworms live in dens.
He can hear something moving ahead, the soft sounds echoing down the stone walls even when Tim stops moving, breathing. If he can hear it, it can hear him, and fleeing footsteps would only give a beast the notion that prey was near.
There's something in the darkness ahead, and Tim can make out a few long glints, like thin, wet teeth several feet long.