The cold rock pressed against Samuel's back.
He remained perfectly still and listened.
Again and again, the distant shrieks of the creatures echoed through the ravine. Sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. The wind carried their cries deep into the cave, where they were thrown back by the walls in muffled echoes.
They were still there.
They were waiting.
Samuel slowly pulled his knees toward his chest. His left arm throbbed beneath the makeshift bandage. The bleeding had mostly stopped by now, but every heartbeat sent another surge of pain through it. He closed his eyes for a moment.
Instantly, the wind was there again.
He felt it against his face.
He watched the sky above him grow smaller.
He heard the rock crack.
His eyes snapped open.
His breathing quickened.
It was over.
It's over.
He forced himself to breathe slowly.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
But his body refused to obey.
His heart was still pounding far too fast.
Slowly, Samuel raised his eyes toward the cave entrance. From where he stood, only a narrow strip of sky was visible. Every now and then, dark shadows drifted across it. Each time they did, his body tensed automatically.
They were still out there.
Maybe they would leave in an hour.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe never.
Samuel swallowed.
Then he slowly turned his head.
Nothing but darkness lay before him.
The draft he had felt earlier brushed across his face once more. Faint, but steady.
The cave continued.
Deeper.
He didn't know where it led.
Maybe it ended after only a few more meters.
Maybe it stretched for miles beneath the earth.
Maybe there really was a second exit.
Maybe there wasn't.
He knew only one thing.
If he stayed here, hunger would come eventually.
Then thirst.
And sooner or later, he would have to leave the cave again.
Outside, the creatures were waiting.
He had no choice.
Slowly, Samuel pushed himself to his feet with his right hand.
His legs felt heavy.
The dizziness returned for a moment before fading again.
He cast one last glance toward the entrance.
Then he took his first step into the darkness.
With every meter, the light grew weaker.
The sharp outlines of the rocks gradually dissolved into gray shadows. Before long, Samuel could barely make out where the ground was beneath his feet. He felt his way forward with his right hand along the wall.
The stone was cold.
Damp.
In some places it felt almost smooth, while in others jagged edges scraped across his fingers.
The draft remained.
That calmed him.
If air is flowing through here... then it has to come out somewhere.
At least, he hoped so.
He focused on that thought.
Don't think about the fall.
Don't think about the ravine.
Don't think about the sky.
One step.
Then another.
The ground sloped downward.
At first Samuel barely noticed. Only after several minutes did he realize his legs were unconsciously working harder and harder against the incline.
The cave led deeper.
Farther and farther.
His gaze drifted back one last time.
By now, the entrance was nothing more than a bright spot.
He stopped for a moment.
From here, the light looked almost unreal.
As though it didn't belong in this place.
Then he continued onward.
With every step, the bright spot grew smaller.
Until it finally disappeared behind a bend.
Samuel froze.
It was suddenly completely dark.
Not the darkness of night.
Not the darkness of a forest.
This darkness was absolute.
He couldn't even see his own hand, though it was right in front of his face.
His breathing quickened again.
Easy.
You have the knife.
Slowly, he drew it from its sheath.
Not because it would help against the darkness.
But because it made his right hand feel less empty.
He kept walking.
One step at a time.
Each footfall was placed carefully.
Several times his foot struck smaller stones.
The sound echoed deep into the cave.
Every time, Samuel stopped.
He listened.
Nothing.
Only the steady whisper of the draft.
He forced himself onward.
Think.
You fell.
You survived.
Why?
He lowered his gaze instinctively toward the bandage.
He couldn't see it.
But he could feel it.
The pain.
The fabric.
The dampness of the blood.
I tried to hold on.
Yes.
He remembered that.
His fingers had scraped across the rock.
His fingernail had been torn away.
The wounds matched.
That made sense.
He gave a slight nod.
So my arm must have slowed the fall.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he stopped again.
No.
His stomach tightened.
That couldn't be it.
He remembered the height.
The ravine.
The endless fall.
Even if his arm had slowed him down a little...
It never would have been enough.
Samuel closed his eyes.
Without meaning to, he pictured the cliff face again.
The sky.
The wind.
That's not enough.
He shook his head.
Maybe I hit something on the way down.
He thought.
Tried to remember.
Nothing.
Maybe there were ledges.
Again, nothing.
His memory ended.
It always ended at the same place.
The fall.
The pain.
Darkness.
And then...
waking up.
Samuel pressed his lips together.
Why am I alive?
He kept walking.
The passage grew narrower.
At first, it was barely noticeable.
But after several minutes, his right shoulder brushed against the rock more and more often.
The ground continued to slope downward.
The air grew colder.
Damper.
Samuel lowered his head slightly.
The ceiling had become lower.
He didn't realize it until his hair scraped across the rough stone.
He leaned forward a little.
Keep going.
Just keep going.
Because turning back was no longer an option.
With every step, the passage became tighter.
At first, it was little more than an uncomfortable feeling. His shoulders brushed against the walls more frequently now, and his backpack occasionally caught on a rocky outcrop. Each time, Samuel carefully worked it free and forced himself onward.
The draft was still there.
He clung to it.
Not with his hands.
With his thoughts.
If air is flowing through here... then there has to be an exit.
He repeated the sentence over and over.
Like an equation.
Like something that could be proven.
There had to be an exit.
There had to.
The slope became steeper.
Samuel placed each step more carefully. Loose stones rolled out from beneath his boots and disappeared into the darkness with dull clacks.
He waited.
But even after several seconds, he still didn't hear them hit the bottom.
Slowly, he raised his head.
How deep...
He never finished the thought.
It didn't matter.
Forward.
Just forward.
The walls drew closer together.
Now he had to twist his upper body slightly to squeeze between them. Again and again, the bandage on his left arm scraped against the rough rock.
Every time, a sharp pain shot through his body.
His hand clenched.
The bandage felt damp again.
Samuel knew the wound had opened once more.
He didn't want to look.
He just wanted to keep moving.
The thought of the fall wouldn't let him go.
It kept forcing its way to the front of his mind.
I should have died.
Samuel gritted his teeth.
Focus.
He began counting his steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
When he reached six, he suddenly couldn't remember whether he had just counted five or six.
He stopped.
His heart beat faster.
He started over.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
...
Again, he lost track.
Samuel squeezed his eyes shut.
Pull yourself together.
He took a deep breath.
But the moment his lungs filled, it felt as though he wasn't getting enough air.
He inhaled again.
And again.
His breathing became more frantic.
Faster.
Faster.
You're getting air.
It's just panic.
He knew it.
He knew there was enough oxygen.
He could feel the draft against his skin.
He could breathe.
His body refused to believe him.
His chest rose and fell more and more rapidly.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
Samuel leaned against the rock wall.
The cold stone pressed against his shoulder.
He closed his eyes.
Calm down.
Nothing.
Breathe slower.
Nothing.
The harder he tried to control his breathing, the less control he had.
His fingers began to tremble.
Not slightly.
They shook so violently that the knife nearly slipped from his hand.
Samuel lowered his head.
Why...?
Why is this happening to me?
He knew the answer.
Panic.
He had been afraid before.
Many times.
But never like this.
It didn't come like a wave.
It crept slowly through his body.
Relentlessly.
He forced himself to open his eyes again.
It changed nothing.
He couldn't see anything anyway.
Only black.
Absolute darkness.
For the first time, he wondered how long he had been walking.
Ten minutes?
An hour?
He didn't know.
Down here, there was nothing by which time could be measured.
No sun.
No sounds.
Only the draft.
And his breathing.
Samuel raised his right hand and pressed it against the wall.
It was ice-cold.
Damp.
The stone felt utterly lifeless.
He slowly ran his fingers across its surface.
Rough.
Jagged.
Real.
He needed that touch.
Something unmistakable.
Something that could be explained.
The stone was there.
He could feel it.
It was real.
The thought calmed him for a brief moment.
Then the next one came.
The fall was real too.
Samuel froze.
His stomach tightened.
He didn't want to think about it.
But his mind refused to let go.
He saw the sky again.
He heard the wind.
He felt his fingers desperately clawing for something to hold onto.
And then...
nothing.
A gap.
A black, unreachable gap.
He tried with all his strength to remember.
What had happened after the fall?
Had there been an impact?
Had something caught him?
Had he become lodged somewhere?
Nothing.
The harder he searched, the emptier his mind became.
He knew only one thing.
That memory didn't exist.
And that was exactly what frightened him.
Why can't I remember?
He shook his head.
No.
I have to stay logical.
He started again.
I fell.
I tried to hold on.
My arm was injured.
Then...
...
Nothing.
Every time, his train of thought ended at the same place, as though someone had torn the rest away.
Samuel slammed his right fist against the rock wall.
Not hard.
A dull pain shot through his fingers.
It felt good.
It distracted him.
For a moment.
Only for a moment.
Why am I alive?
The question returned immediately.
More persistent than before.
Why am I alive?
He kept walking.
The passage grew even narrower.
Now both shoulders scraped against the rock at the same time.
Samuel had to turn slightly sideways.
Every step became harder.
The walls seemed to be closing in around him.
And although he knew they weren't moving, it felt as though they were drawing closer with every second.
Samuel no longer knew how long he had been walking.
Down here, time had lost all meaning.
Every step felt the same.
Every breath sounded like the one before it.
There was no sun crossing the sky.
No shifting shadows.
Not even the shrieks of the flying creatures reached him anymore.
Only the steady whisper of the draft accompanied him.
A monotonous sound that slowly blended with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
The passage continued relentlessly downward.
Not steeply.
Just enough that Samuel constantly felt the change in his legs.
Without meaning to, he wondered how deep beneath the earth he must be by now.
The thought sent a chill through him.
Focus.
He forced his eyes toward the ground, though he could barely make anything out. His right hand slid continuously along the rock wall. Again and again, his fingers scraped across jagged outcrops. The rough stone scratched his skin, leaving tiny cuts, but Samuel never let go.
He needed the contact.
He had to feel that the wall was really there.
That at least something was real.
By now, his left arm throbbed so violently that every step sent pain shooting through his entire body. The bandage clung uncomfortably to his skin. Wherever the fabric rubbed across the open scrapes, it felt as though countless tiny needles were being driven into his arm.
He ignored it.
The pain was tangible.
It could be explained.
The fall couldn't.
That thought forced its way forward again.
I should have died.
Samuel closed his eyes for a moment.
He regretted it instantly.
The wind.
The fall.
The ravine.
For the briefest fraction of a second, he felt as though there was no ground beneath his feet again.
His body reacted faster than his mind.
His eyes flew open.
He stumbled forward and slammed his shoulder into the rock wall.
A pained sound escaped his throat.
He stopped.
His breathing was far too fast.
That was only a memory.
You're not falling.
He repeated the words to himself again and again.
You're not falling.
Slowly, he placed both hands against the rock.
The cold stone drew some of the warmth from his fingers.
He leaned into it.
Harder.
The pressure helped.
He could feel the wall.
It wasn't moving.
It was solid.
It was holding him.
Samuel forced himself to take several deep breaths.
It took a long time before his heartbeat calmed even slightly.
Think logically.
You're not up there anymore.
You're in a cave.
You're standing.
You're not falling.
For a brief moment, it worked.
His thoughts became clearer.
He straightened up once more and continued onward.
The passage grew lower.
At first, Samuel only had to lower his head slightly.
A few minutes later, his back was already brushing against the ceiling.
The stone scraped across his clothes, sending fine dust cascading onto his shoulders.
With every meter, the cave became tighter.
It happened so gradually that Samuel barely noticed the change at first.
Only when his backpack caught on the wall again did he stop.
He pulled at it carefully.
Nothing.
He tugged harder.
The fabric came free with a soft tear.
Samuel stood perfectly still.
His breathing quickened again.
The cave had become narrow.
Very narrow.
He turned slightly sideways and continued.
Now both shoulders pressed against the rock at once.
The passage forced him to keep his upper body at an angle.
He felt his heart begin to race again.
It's just narrow.
Nothing more.
Another step.
Now the stone pressed against his backpack as well.
One more.
His injured arm scraped along the wall.
Samuel gritted his teeth.
By now, the pain had become so constant that he could barely distinguish one stab from the next.
He kept moving.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But the cave seemed endless.
It only grew narrower.
Samuel tried once more to distract himself with his thoughts.
He began reconstructing the fall.
For the tenth time.
Perhaps the twentieth.
The ground gave way.
I fell.
I tried to hold on.
My arm...
He stopped.
Again.
Always at the same point.
His mind found no answer.
He forced himself to keep thinking.
Maybe...
No.
There were no more maybes.
He had already considered every possibility.
Every single one had failed.
His lips moved soundlessly.
Why...?
He didn't even realize he had stopped walking.
Only when a cold draft brushed across his face did he return to the present.
Samuel blinked.
Suddenly, he couldn't remember what he had just been thinking about.
He frowned.
He tried to find the thought again.
Nothing.
Only emptiness.
A few seconds later, it came back.
The fall.
Of course.
Always the fall.
It felt as though his own mind was forcing him back to that single moment.
No matter what he thought about.
No matter what he did.
He always ended up there.
At the fall.
At the wind.
At the darkness.
His steps became uneven.
Sometimes he walked faster.
Then slower again.
Several times he stopped for no reason.
Not because he had heard something.
Not because the passage had changed.
But because his thoughts kept dissolving into nothing.
He would lose the thread halfway through a thought.
Start over.
Lose it again.
He knew something was wrong.
He could tell himself.
And that frightened him even more.
Pull yourself together.
He heard the words in his mind with the same harshness Gustov would have used.
You have to think clearly.
But his mind no longer obeyed him.
The deeper the cave became...
...the farther reason slipped away.
And Samuel could do nothing to stop it.
Samuel no longer knew how many times he had bumped into the rock wall.
At first, he had flinched every time.
Now he barely noticed the pain.
The passage had become so narrow that his shoulders were constantly pressed against the stone.
With every step, the rough rock scraped across his clothes.
Loose threads tore free, caught on jagged edges, and finally snapped with soft cracks.
Samuel paid no attention.
He had stopped paying attention long ago.
His right hand continued gliding along the wall.
Again and again, sharp edges cut into his fingers.
At first, he felt only a faint sting.
Then the skin grew warm.
Finally, he noticed his fingertips becoming damp.
Blood.
He pulled his hand back for a moment.
In the absolute darkness, he couldn't see it.
He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger.
Sticky.
He knew his skin had split open.
He didn't care.
He kept walking.
The ground became rougher.
More and more often, he had to step over jutting rocks or carefully lower himself down small ledges.
More than once, he slipped and slammed his knee against the stone.
The third time, he stopped briefly.
A dull ache spread through his right leg.
Slowly, he ran a hand over his trousers.
The fabric was torn in several places.
Beneath it, his skin felt wet.
He was bleeding there too.
Not badly.
But enough for dust and fine sand to cling to the wounds immediately.
By now, dirt covered him everywhere.
His hands.
His hair.
His face.
Sweat ran down his forehead, carrying gray dust with it.
He felt tiny grains grinding between his skin and his clothes.
Even blinking had become uncomfortable.
He raised an arm and wiped across his face.
It only made things worse.
The dust smeared.
Samuel took a deep breath.
Immediately, he started coughing.
The fine sand scraped at his throat.
The cough echoed unnaturally loudly through the cave.
Samuel froze.
He listened.
Nothing.
Only the wind.
Only his breathing.
Only his heartbeat.
Keep going.
He took the next step.
The passage narrowed again.
This time, Samuel noticed the change immediately.
His backpack no longer caught on the walls only from time to time.
It remained wedged between them.
Samuel pulled.
It didn't move an inch.
He pulled harder.
The fabric stretched.
Again.
Nothing.
Slowly, Samuel closed his eyes.
No...
Not now.
He carefully turned sideways.
The backpack became even more tightly lodged.
He felt the pressure against his chest increase.
His breathing grew shallower.
Easy.
With trembling hands, he loosened the straps.
One.
Then the other.
The backpack dropped heavily to the ground.
Samuel let out a relieved breath.
For a moment.
Then he realized.
He could no longer carry it.
Slowly, he lifted it by one of the straps and dragged it behind him.
The scraping of leather against stone accompanied every step.
The passage continued downward.
Deeper.
And deeper.
Samuel had long since lost all sense of direction.
He knew only one thing.
He was descending.
Deeper than he had ever been in his life.
The air grew colder.
Damper.
Yet somehow, it felt heavier.
Not because it actually was.
But because his body had begun to fight against it.
By now, he had to remain bent forward at all times.
The ceiling pressed against his back.
Several times, his shirt caught on jagged points of rock.
It tore.
Once.
Then again.
Cold stone scraped across his skin.
Fresh scratches spread across his back.
Samuel winced.
He kept going.
I should have died.
The thought was back.
It hadn't left him for a single minute.
Why am I still alive?
Once again, he tried to find an answer.
Maybe his arm had...
No.
Maybe he had...
No.
Maybe...
No.
Again and again.
No.
Every explanation crumbled before he could finish thinking it.
It felt as though his mind kept running into a wall.
Again.
Harder.
Again.
More hopelessly.
Samuel stopped.
Suddenly, he couldn't remember why.
He stared into the darkness.
Seconds passed.
He tried to remember.
Why...?
His gaze slowly drifted downward.
The backpack.
Right.
He wanted to keep going.
Slowly, he began moving again.
But by now, even thinking had become exhausting.
He had to force himself to hold on to the simplest connections.
I'm walking forward.
A brief pause.
Because...
It took him several seconds.
...because the creatures are outside.
He nodded unconsciously.
Yes.
That was why.
Only because of that.
He continued onward.
The cave grew even tighter.
Now the walls no longer pressed only against his shoulders.
They squeezed his entire upper body.
Every breath forced his ribs against the cold rock.
Samuel felt his heart instantly begin to race.
No.
Not again.
He knew exactly what was happening.
And that was precisely why he couldn't stop it.
His breathing became shallow.
His chest tightened.
He tried to breathe more slowly.
He couldn't.
The cave suddenly seemed smaller.
The walls drew closer.
He knew that was impossible.
He knew it.
But his body had stopped believing him long ago.
He took another step.
His shoulder caught.
Samuel pulled.
Nothing.
He twisted slightly.
Now the rock pressed against his chest and back at the same time.
He pulled again.
Still nothing.
His heart pounded against his ribs with such force that it hurt.
No.
No.
No.
He tried to back up.
His backpack jammed behind him.
Forward.
Back.
Nothing.
His hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
His breathing grew faster.
Faster still.
He knew there was enough air.
He could feel the draft.
He knew it.
And yet he began to feel...
...as though he were suffocating.
Samuel threw his mouth open.
He gasped.
Again.
Again.
But with every breath, the feeling only grew stronger.
His chest tightened painfully.
As though an iron band had wrapped itself around his torso, drawing tighter with every heartbeat.
I'm getting air.
He knew it.
The draft still brushed across his face.
It was there.
He could feel it.
And yet every instinct in his body screamed something else.
You're suffocating.
His heart raced.
He could no longer count the beats.
It hammered against his ribs as though trying to break free from his chest.
Samuel braced both hands against the rock walls.
The rough stone immediately sliced into his palms.
He pushed.
With all his strength.
The rock did not move a single millimeter.
He pushed harder.
A sharp pain shot through his shoulders.
His fingers slipped across the stone.
Skin tore away on the jagged edges.
It didn't matter.
He had to get out.
Now.
He hurled his body forward.
The rock answered with a dull scraping sound.
His shirt caught once again.
A strip of fabric tore away.
The bare skin beneath was dragged across the stone.
A searing pain spread across his back.
Samuel gasped.
He tried crawling backward.
He became stuck there as well.
The backpack wedged itself behind his legs.
His knees scraped across the rough ground.
Sharp stones sliced through the fabric of his trousers and dug into wounds that were already open.
One dull pain.
Then another.
He could hardly tell where any of them came from anymore.
Dust trickled down from the ceiling.
It settled on his sweat-soaked skin, crept into every wound, clung to his face, and gathered between his lips.
Samuel coughed.
The coughing made his chest seize.
For one terrifying moment, he truly felt as though he could no longer breathe.
He pressed his forehead against the cold stone.
No...
No...
No...
His thoughts were no longer sentences.
Only single words.
Fragments.
His breathing became so rapid that he grew dizzy.
A sharp tingling spread from his fingertips into his forearms.
His lips went numb.
He tried to clench his right hand into a fist.
He could barely do it.
His fingers no longer obeyed him.
Pull yourself together.
He forced himself to count to ten.
One.
Two.
Three.
...
Why had he been counting?
Samuel blinked.
He couldn't remember.
He started again.
One.
...
His mind was empty.
Not calm.
Empty.
Every thought dissolved before it could be completed.
Only one remained.
I'm dying.
He shook his head.
Violently.
Dust fell from his hair.
No.
No.
I'm getting air.
He knew it.
He knew it perfectly well.
His body refused to believe him.
His chest rose and fell in frantic, shallow breaths.
Faster.
Ever faster.
It felt as though every movement of his ribs pressed them harder against the stone.
The walls drew closer.
Closer.
Samuel knew they weren't moving.
He knew it.
But that knowledge no longer mattered.
The cave seemed to be closing around him.
The rock pressed against his shoulders.
Against his back.
Against his chest.
It felt as though the earth itself wanted to swallow him.
Suddenly, he began pushing forward uncontrollably.
Not because he believed he could force his way through.
But because his body knew only one command.
Out.
The jagged stone tore more skin from his forearms.
The bandage on his left arm caught on a sharp edge.
A stabbing pain shot through the injured limb.
The fabric darkened once again.
Samuel barely noticed.
He kept pushing.
Forward.
Until his muscles trembled.
Until his hands gave out.
Then he collapsed.
His forehead rested against the cold ground.
His shoulders shook uncontrollably.
He gasped for air.
Tears ran down his dust-covered face, leaving pale trails through the dirt.
He didn't notice them.
He heard only his own breathing.
That frantic, panicked gasping.
It filled the entire cave.
It was the only thing that still existed.
Then...
...in the middle of that chaos...
...he heard a voice.
A calm woman's voice.
Not loud.
Not distant.
It was simply there.
As clearly as if someone were standing right beside him.
"Keep going."
She said nothing else.
No name.
No explanation.
No answer.
Only those two words.
Samuel froze.
His breathing faltered.
For a brief moment, confusion pushed the panic aside.
Slowly, he raised his head.
The darkness was unchanged.
No one was there.
Only the cold rock.
The draft.
And the blackness.
His heart was still racing.
His hands still trembled uncontrollably.
The fear had not disappeared.
Not even a little.
But amid all the panic, one single thought remained.
Keep crawling.
Slowly, Samuel closed his eyes.
He didn't know who the voice had belonged to.
He didn't know if it had really existed.
Maybe he was slowly losing his mind.
Maybe his brain had invented it.
It didn't matter.
He had no other choice.
With trembling arms, he pushed himself off the ground once more and crawled deeper into the darkness.
Samuel had no idea how long he crawled.
His thoughts had become a gray fog through which only scattered fragments drifted.
There was no order anymore.
No before.
No after.
Only the next handhold.
The next knee.
The next breath.
The voice still echoed in his mind.
"Keep going."
It had never faded.
But it didn't repeat itself.
It had been only two words.
Nothing more.
Samuel didn't dare think about it any further.
Every time his mind began asking questions, it felt as though he would fall back into the same spiral.
Who was that?
No.
Don't think about it.
Keep going.
By now, the passage forced him completely onto all fours.
His knees slid across the jagged stone.
With every movement, small scabs split open again, fresh blood mixing with dust and damp earth.
The fabric over both knees had long since been torn away.
His hands looked little better.
His fingers were covered with countless small cuts.
Tiny splinters of stone were embedded in his palms, driven deeper into the flesh with every movement.
The burning pain had long since faded into a dull, constant ache.
Samuel barely felt it anymore.
It was simply there.
Like everything else.
With every meter, the passage grew a little lower.
At first, only his back brushed the ceiling.
Then he had to tuck his head farther and farther down.
Eventually, his upper body was almost completely against the ground.
He pulled himself forward using only his arms while his legs dragged behind him across the rough stone.
The backpack caught once again.
Samuel lay perfectly still.
For a brief moment, he closed his eyes.
Not from exhaustion.
From fear.
Please... not again.
Slowly, his right hand reached back.
The leather strap had become wedged between two rocky outcrops.
He pulled carefully.
Nothing.
Once more.
The stone groaned.
With a sudden jerk, the backpack came free.
Samuel remained lying there for several more seconds.
His breathing had finally begun to steady.
Not calm.
Just no longer completely out of control.
He listened.
Nothing.
No dripping water.
No animals.
No gust of wind.
Only the steady current of air flowing from somewhere deep within the cave.
He clung to it.
Not to the voice.
Not to hope.
To the draft.
It was real.
It could be explained.
It had to come from somewhere.
Which meant there had to be an exit.
Keep going.
Samuel pulled himself forward once more.
The ceiling descended even farther.
Now it scraped constantly across his back.
Again and again, small strips of fabric caught on the jagged edges.
When his shirt finally slid across a sharp point of rock, Samuel felt the bare skin beneath dragged over it.
A hot burning pain spread between his shoulder blades.
He gasped.
But this time, he didn't stop.
He crawled on.
Dust rained endlessly into his face.
It gathered in his eyelashes, clung to the tears that had not yet fully dried, and settled over his body like a second skin.
By now, Samuel could no longer tell whether he was hot or cold.
His body felt unfamiliar.
Heavy.
Every movement cost him strength.
Every meter felt twice as long as the last.
The passage curved slightly.
Samuel slowly pulled himself around it.
As he did, his injured shoulder scraped against the rock once again.
He clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw began to ache.
The bandage tore open a little more.
Warm liquid ran down his forearm.
He couldn't see it.
He could only feel it slowly reaching his hand.
Don't stop.
This time, the thought came from himself.
Not from the voice.
He didn't know whether that reassured him...
or frightened him.
His eyes settled on the ground directly in front of his face.
He could see little more than an arm's length ahead.
The darkness swallowed everything.
And yet, suddenly, Samuel thought he saw something.
He froze.
Was that...?
No.
He blinked several times.
Nothing.
Probably just his eyes.
They had grown accustomed to the darkness and were now playing tricks on him.
He gave his head a slight shake.
Focus.
Another reach.
Then another.
His right elbow slid across a jagged edge of rock.
Instantly, the skin split open, and a sharp pain shot through his arm.
Samuel grimaced.
Don't stop.
Not now.
The draft had grown stronger.
Only slightly.
Almost imperceptibly.
But stronger.
Without thinking, he raised his head.
The cool air no longer brushed only across his face.
Now it swept across the back of his neck as well.
Samuel remained motionless for a moment.
Then he closed his eyes.
No.
He wasn't imagining it.
The airflow had changed.
It was clearer.
Stronger.
His heart was still beating fast.
But this time, not only because of fear.
For the first time since leaving the cave entrance behind...
something else stirred within him.
A tiny spark of hope.
Maybe...
Maybe this passage really did lead somewhere.
Maybe, at the end of it, there was more than endless darkness.
Samuel drew a deep breath.
Dust scraped against his throat, and he coughed.
Then he reached forward with his right hand once more and crawled onward...
deeper...
toward the draft.