The Wyrm got fat, and growed, and growed,

and growed an awful size, with git big teeth,

and git big gob, and git big googly eyes.

*the Lambton Wyrm*

As she stepped out of the deeper water and closer to the seam, the light became brighter - so much so, she pulled down her head covering to tone it down a bit. The deep purple glow of Wyrmbone-touched spar was unmistakable.

Less than 20 years back, coal had been king in this area, then scientists had discovered the unique properties of these little crystalline deposits and it was like a gold rush. From glennies to transportation, everything had changed. Hard to believe now looking back that the only use it had seen before had been by lead miners who put together little “spar boxes” to display the bonny bits they had hauled up.

Rowanne was - to say the least - suffering from mixed feelings at the moment. One second sad at the loss of so many friends, the next her heart quickened as she realised this seam would mean being able to bring up enough to not go hungry this week. Then guilty, then relieved to be out of the dark, but terrified that if she didn’t want to die down here she’d have to go back out there again soon enough.

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Well if she sat here doing nothing all week she’d never get out, and there was no way in hell she was leaving Mary alone, her sister had seen quite enough loss. So it was time to get to work. Rowanne looked around the seam carefully. The crystal shimmered and glowed, lending the place an eerie and uncanny feeling. It seemed when the Wyrmbone touched the spar it had spread fast, even some of the props were encased in a thin layer. A lot of what she could see was purple or white, fairly common types, albeit beautiful, but there were some more unusual pieces here, some was touched with just a lick of yellow or orange. That was stuff that had formed deeper down and been pushed upwards; some said that it changed colour due to the heat, and as such held onto the fire-like qualities far more easily. That was good stuff, so she pried it loose as quietly as possible.

Then something else caught her eye, she made her way over to a thin strip of green. This stuff was usually devoured during the transformation, and was apparently rare even in untouched forms. Carefully she took her pick and levered a few pieces loose, tucking them in a pouch at her side. She really wished loading up was an option, but in the circumstances it would be a bad idea. For now she was just glad of a spot to catch her breath.

Creatures like the Wyrmlings may be spawned from the Wyrm's curse, but the bones of the Wyrm reacted to their presence, changing to a deep blue tinge that made their presence obvious. So long as she was here there was no way they or any other fae creature (except gremlins annoying little freaks that they were) could catch her off guard.

She then spotted something strange; there was a colour here she’d never even heard of much less seen. Wedged in a crevice in the stone surrounded by orangey yellow like some kind of eye was a single piece of blood red. She hesitated for a moment, then reached for it. A new type could set her up for life. But as she touched it, the world seemed to fall away. Everything went black.