I crawl through the tunnel, hating this. The torch is clenched between my teeth, and I have to keep adjusting its position every time the tunnel narrows and its burning end starts brushing against the wall. I know it’s going to get to the point where the torch’s handle is too long for the width of the tunnel, but for now the space is still a bit wider than it is high.
Remember the salt, I tell myself every time I think about giving up and going back the way we’d come. Remember the salt. The cubs are following me on foot – they weren’t keen on the idea of being re-confined into the sling and it’s not practical besides. If I’m going to have to be squeezing through tight spaces, having delicate cubs held against me sounds like a recipe for tragedy. No, better for them to walk with Bastet bringing up the rear, making sure they don’t go wandering backwards. With me at the front, I can stop them from going any further forwards if necessary. So far, it hasn’t been a problem.
I’m not wearing my armour, having taken it off when I first started having to crawl. The movement made my chitin ‘armour’ shift against my shoulders, rubbing raw a spot which had already become a little sore after swinging my mace to kill the mini spider-monsters. A quick Lay-on-hands had dealt with that and I made another mental note to somehow file the rough edge down. It takes a couple of minutes to undo the sinew knots holding the two pieces together, and I hope I’m not attacked before I have the chance to put it on again.
After a while, I get to my first real challenge. The tunnel narrows and then widens again abruptly, some feature in the rock around me forming a bulge which cuts across at least half the tunnel. Feeding the torch through first, I put my hands through the hole and then prepare to wiggle my shoulders through.
They stick for a moment and I worry suddenly whether my recent bulking up is going to be the reason for me not getting my salt. It’s certainly true that my shoulders are a lot broader now than they had been on arrival, and even then I’d been reasonably nicely defined. I’m still not bulky in a body-builder style, mind. No, the muscles I’ve developed here from both activity and stat points are lean and tough. The downside of that is that they’re not easy to squish through a confined space.
After a moment of wriggling, though, I get them through. I breathe a sigh of relief as my heart-rate goes back to normal. Though if that was hard, I really fear for my chances later: if I remember the impressions Bastet sent me, I haven’t yet encountered the tightest spot. Pulling myself through with my hands and pushing with my feet, I fit my hips into the space a lot more easily than my shoulders. It just takes a bit of awkward wriggling and then I’m entirely through.
The space beyond the tight point is a bit wider than the previous tunnel and I sit back, looking at the raptorcat cubs scrambling through the hole. Since the further stretch of tunnel is a bit lower than the previous, they have to scramble down a steep slope which I’d been able to easily span with my longer limbs. As usual, they’re just too cute as they tackle the challenge. Ninja starts feeling her way down then gets bored and jumps the last bit. Stormcloud determinedly shuffles down the slope one paw at a time.
Trouble, being his usual careless self, just jumps, lands badly, and rolls to bump into my leg. He looks up at me questioningly, as if unsure as to what has just happened. I can only shake my head. If this cub makes it to adulthood, heck, even adolescence, I’ll count it as one of my greatest achievements.
Bastet waits patiently the other side of the hole for us to shift and make some space for her. I promptly shift up the tunnel a bit, telling the cubs to follow me. By this point, we’ve developed enough of a rapport that they follow my instructions without a problem. How they can understand me, I don’t know; I’m just glad that they can. The adult raptorcat steps through easily, tucking her rudimentary wings into her sides as she moves sinuously. I envy her for her ease of movements sometimes, now more than ever.
“If I get stuck, you’re pulling me out,” I warn her. She sends a wave of agreement with a tinge of amusement. “Right,” I say to myself, looking with determination at the tunnel ahead. I can’t see much of the tunnel ahead thanks to the limited range of the torchlight. Still, as far as I can see there aren’t any more tight spots, though it does start to narrow again at the edge of my view. At least there’s a current of air passing through the tunnel which reassures me – to find myself stuck in an airless hole is an even worse prospect than just finding myself stuck. And that’s enough of a nightmare to make me seriously consider going back. If I was alone, I would. It’s only the hope that Bastet would be able to help me that keeps me going forwards.
Once more setting off, we travel through the tunnels slowly and steadily. The tunnel narrows and widens at different points, but nowhere near as tightly as that spot earlier. At a couple of points I have to put the torch on the floor and push it forward in between crawling simply because the tunnel isn’t wide enough for me to carry it in my mouth. I ought to work out some way of rigging it up to my head or something, I decide. As long as I can make it that it’s not likely to set my hair on fire, that is.
At each step I have to fight against the fear that creeps higher in my chest: the fear of being entombed before I’m even dead. The walls seem to press tighter even when I can logically see that they’re not actually any narrower and the ceiling is overbearingly low. I swallow dryly and focus on my goal. Remember the salt.
I try to distract myself by theorising how this tunnel came to be. There’s quite a strong wind current – could it have been erosion of air? No, it’s not strong enough for that. Water? Possibly. There are certainly a number of hallmarks which indicate it being water erosion – channels cut in the rock along the tunnel rather than from side to side, smooth curves in general rather than rough points, fairly uniform surfaces. While the surfaces are still a bit rough, it’s true that even the roughness is rounded rather than jagged. For a moment, a new fear surfaces – that of suddenly being engulfed in a flood of water, drowning before I could even make it halfway back to the last tight spot.
Then my rationality asserts itself again. The tunnel is completely dry without even the signs of intermittent flooding. There’s no greenery on the walls, no algal bloom. OK, I don’t know for sure that this world has algae, but the chances are that it has something which grows in damp environments. This tunnel is completely bare of anything like that. My heart-rate slows back down from its spike. I decide that theorising is just as stressful as just concentrating on moving forwards, and resolve not to do any more of it unless necessary.
When I next come to a tight spot, it’s a bit more significant than the previous. Not quite as tight, but a lot longer. I gulp a little at the sight, my fight against my fear faltering briefly. Before panic can take over, I close my eyes and breathe, reminding myself that I’m not here alone – that in the worst case scenario, Bastet will have to dig her teeth into my ankle or calf and pull me out.
The tunnel roof lowers abruptly, leaving a space that’s nowhere near big enough for me to crawl. I’ll have to army-crawl at best for most of it, and there’s a spot I can see at the edge of the light pool where I’m not sure I’ll actually fit my upper body through at all. Is salt worth this?
Bastet got through, I remind myself. She’s smaller than me, but she’s also less able to move flat. When it comes to going through spaces which are horizontally-challenged, she’s definitely more able than me, but I’m better at going flat than she is since she has to crouch and creep forwards. That she was able to get through this space gives me hope that I can too.
Muttering a short prayer to anyone who’s around to hear and crossing my fingers for good measure, I face my fear. I feed the torch in first and double-check to make sure I don’t have any loose fabric that might get caught on rough bits of rock. I even stick my knife into my Inventory to make sure that there’s no risk of that getting trapped either.
Lowering myself to my belly, I feed myself into the small space and then use my elbows and toes to push myself forwards. The first bit is OK. The ceiling is far too close for comfort, but I can move relatively easily. Then it starts getting tighter. The ceiling gets closer and closer until it’s pressing on my shoulders from the top even as I’m pressed into the floor below. The space is too narrow for me to lift my head fully and I have to strain my eyes looking upwards constantly just to see forwards.
The only good thing about the situation is that since the space is pretty wide, I’m not struggling to move my arms. Not unless I want to rotate my shoulders, at least. I inch through, my fingers and toes providing the impetus I need to keep moving forward. Inside my mind is a litany of comfort and encouragement to stave off the panic bubbling just under the surface. Just keep going, just keep pushing, just keep pulling, it’s OK, I’ll make it, I’m still moving… My focus narrows to purely the next inch, the next divot I can fit my fingers or toes in to give myself just a little extra omph.
Had I tried this when I first arrived, I doubt I’d have got this far. My fingers and toes wouldn’t have had the strength or dexterity to keep me moving forwards. Plus, I’m pretty sure my Willpower is helping me keep my fear at bay.
Then comes the dreaded moment: I get to the point where the ceiling presses low enough down that I can barely make any headway against the friction caused by the rough rock over and above me. I can only breathe shallowly because I don’t have the space to fully fill my chest. The primal fear of suffocation enhances the already present fear of being entombed and I find myself panting shallow breaths, a low, fearful whine wheezing out of my throat.
A rumble from behind me startles me for a moment, increasing the speed of my panting breaths. My heart starting to pound even harder in my chest, a cold sweat trickles down my forehead. A wave of apologetic reassurance comes down the Bond to me. Oh. Yes. In my fearful state, I’d forgotten I had Bastet with me. Feeling momentarily embarrassed, I remind myself that it’s perfectly normal to feel panicky in the situation I’m currently experiencing.
Her reassurance helps me continue and I work my way forwards bit by bit. Each inch is an accomplishment and a move towards getting out of here. My torch has been edged forwards enough that it’s now revealing my goal. The space is close enough to feel if I stretch my questing fingers out fully in front of me; the flames of the torch are illuminating a larger cave only a few inches away. If I remember from Bastet’s scouting, this is the worst point; after this, there are only a couple of other difficult points, and neither of them are quite as tight as this.
That doesn’t help when my progress suddenly grinds to a halt. The ceiling has dipped just a fraction lower, and suddenly I can’t go forwards. Shifting backwards to try and take another approach, I find I’m not making any progress in that direction either. My heart-rate spikes and my panting breaths start coming out as wheezes again.
I’m stuck.
