~o0o~

Quaraun woke up some time later.

Laying on the floor.

Dazed.

Confused.

And unable to remember, either where he was or how he had gotten there.

"Why am I sprawled on the ground? I am covered in dirt. On my back. Why am I on my back? How did I get here?"

Quaraun lay on his back, staring skyward into the darkness. At the ceiling.

Maybe? Is there a ceiling overhead?

"I can't see. It is so exceptionally dark. I need to sit up. The ground below me is hard and rock like. It hurts. It hurts so bad."

Stiff.

Uncomfortable.

Painful to lay on.

"Why am I laying on it? It hurts. I hurt. I ache all over. Where am I? Why am I on the ground? Gravel and pebbles are scraping my skin through my clothes. I hate it. It hurts. Abrasive sand is tumbling around my toes, inside my shoes. It hurts my feet. It hurts my toes. I have sand between my toes. I hate it."

When Quaraun couldn't remember what he was doing, he took to pontificating to rumble through random words, hoping one of them would spark a memory of what he was doing.

Failing memory was the worst part of growing old. Quaraun's failing memory often left him waking up confused, not remembering where he was or how he had gotten there.

This was the case today.

Quaraun preferred someone to sleep with him, so they could remind him, when he woke up, where he was and what he was doing there. He hated sleeping alone, because he hated waking up and not being able to remember where he had bedded that night.

Quaraun tried to remember what he had been doing the day before. Walking, but where? He walked so much, so far, so often, that little difference passed from one day to the next. He had been going somewhere, but where?

Why was he sleeping on the ground?

Why not in his tent?

Or on a bedroll?

And why was it so damned dark?

And what was he sleeping on?

Dirt.

A road?

"Am I sitting in the middle of the road? Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?"

Quaraun strained his eyes trying to see, but it was nothing but pitch black, thick blackness all around. Not a sliver of light anywhere.

Nothing to cast shadows.

Nothing but total blackness.

The only thing that gave him any indication of how far off the road he actually was, was the soft sound of his voice echoing back from all sides. It made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

What had happened? How did he end up here alone?

What had happened to everyone else?

Wait? Was there any one else?

How had he ended up alone?

As much as he tried, he couldn't remember anything before waking up just now. Nothing at all. He wasn't even sure who he was. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings and everything just seemed... different.

A lot more chaotic than normal. And there were no memories to help explain his confusion. No way to tell if he really knew anyone other then himself.

His chest tightened. There was something heavy inside it, something cold and hard and painful. Something he didn't want to be feeling right now. That's when he realized it was fear. Fear that this place would never end. Fear that no one would ever find him. Afraid for himself and everything about himself.

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very alone.

It took him a moment before he felt the first tear roll down his cheek. He hadn't expected them to start, or to come at all. Tears. Why? Why was he crying. He'd lost someone. Someone had died. Someone close to him.

"Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?" Quaraun asked himself again. "How did I get in the middle of the road? What happened? Where am I? What has transpired? I don't remember. Why don't I remember? Why am I outside? Why is it so dark? Is it night? I can't see anything. Have I gone blind? No. I've lost my sight before. Briefly. After being struck on the head. It wasn't like this. It wasn't black. It was grey. Foggy. With bursts of colour exploding inside my skull."

Quaraun put his hands on his head and discovered this was a difficult task when one could not see where one's head was.

"No. This is just darkness. But there are no stars. No moon. Where is my moon? Have I fallen into a hole in the ground? Am I underground?" Quaraun reached around blindly until he felt a sod wall, and long tree roots. "Oh! I AM underground! How did I get underground? Have I been buried alive? Who would bury me alive? Entombed beneath the earth."

Quaraun crawled around feeling the ground as he went, trying to feel something he could recognize.

"I can feel dirt and rocks and dirt and soil and dirt and sediment and dust and dirt. And dirt is everywhere. There is so much dirt. I'm dirty. Where is the edge of the trail? Dust is everywhere. And dirt. It's dirt everywhere. Dirt and dirt and more dirt. I can't find any anything. Is there anything here? Anything at all. No. I can find nothing. It's just dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt and dirt and dirt and more dirt! So much dirt. Why is there so much dirt! I hate dirt. Why does nature have to be so dirty. Why can't it be clean like water?"

Quaraun grew increasingly more panicked the more he found nothing but dirt. As his breathing became laboured, so did his thoughts.

Thoughts and fears.

Things were getting more and more out of hand as his panic rose. His breathing quickened as he ran out of air.

"Where is the end? Where is the edge? Where is the edge? Please. Where is the edge? Where is the edge? Where is the edge?!" Quaraun cried as he crawled around in the darkness feeling with his gold armoured fingers for something, anything.

He stopped for a moment, trying to collect his breath, then continued crawling over the rough dirt. He tried again, then gave up after finding nothing but more dirt.

"Nothing. There's nothing here but dirt and dirt and dirt. Just dirt. Nothing else. There's nothing here but dirt. Where am I? Why did you leave me here? Please. Help me!" Quaraun pleaded.

"Where is the grass? I can't see. I have dirt all over my hands. Why can't I find any grass? I need water or grass. Something to clean my hands! I can't fucking see anything! Why is it so dark? There is no grass. I can't feel any grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need grass. I have dirt all over my hands. Why is it so messy? Where is the grass? My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. I need some grass for wipe this mud off my hands."

"I can feel the dirt, rocks, and dirt, dirt, debris, dust and dirt. And everywhere there is just more dirt. Gravel and dirt and dust. There is a lot of dust. I'm dirty. My hands are dirty. I can feel dirt on my hands. It's drying out my skin! My clothes are dirty. My shoes are dirty."

Quaraun sneezed.

"Argh!! I have dirt in my nose! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!"

Where is the end of the road? Dust is everywhere. It's dirty, it's dirty, it's dirty. Is there something here? No. Nothing. I can't find anything. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, not dirty.

Why is everything so messy? Where is the grass?

I can't see.

My hands are covered in mud.

I need to clean my hands.

Why can't I find any weeds? Why is it so dark and there is no grass? I don't feel the grass. Where is the grass?

Why is there no grass? I need hashish.

My hands are in the mud, not in the grass.

I didn't feel the plants at all.

Why do these things keep happening to me!

I didn't ask for this!

Damned stupid ass wishes!

Nothing. No plants. I don't feel the grass.

I didn't feel the plants at all. There was nothing green in my arms and feet.

I can't see.

My feet hurt.

Dirt is getting stuck in every single part of my shoes.

I can't walk, I can't stand.

Where is my cane? I can't get up without it!

I can't get anywhere by myself.

Dirt is sticking to my skin and clothing.

My head hurts.

I think my brain has been hit with a hammer or something.

My whole body feels tired and weak.

I can't see. How can I go home if my eyes are shut? My eyes were open, but now they feel like I have them closed because my whole head feels too heavy for me to lift.

The pain is almost gone from my legs, though, and that means I should be able to walk without hurting my limbs or making them bleed. I don't think I have any broken bones.

Damn it, BoomFuzzy! You fucking pushed me off a cliff! I remember that much, you wretch! What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you do that? You could have killed me!

And you know what? You're lucky you're already dead and I 'm too lazy to kill you again! You bastard!

I'm trying to help you get your body back and you are not exactly making it easy for me when you pull fucking jackassery stunts like this!

And now I'm stuck here, under this fucking mountain with nobody to save me anymore.

There's nothing here, just gravel and dirt and rocks.

Quaraun's shouting caused an avalanche of rubble, soil, gravel, sand, and rocks to come cascading down from above, much of it landing on top of him.

Damn it!

Why am I trapped under these huge, heavy stones?

No! This ain't right. I have to get outta here.

If I die down here, BoomFuzzy, I'm gonna kill you over and over again for eternity!

Fuck!

Where is my cane? Why do I always end up in these shit storms. Shit! I gotta find my stupid cane and there's no fucking light down here, I can't see a thing and now I've got a fucking landslid that's probably buried my cane so I can't find it at all now. Fuck this shit!

That avalanche wasn't an accident either was it? This is your idea of a joke, isn't it? You pushed them down here on top of me didn't you?

BOOMFUZZY! I know you can hear me.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

No! This ain't right. I have to get outta here.

Fuck!

I need to calm down and breath.

Think nice thoughts.

Calm. Relax. Breath.

Mother's ever loving tentacles.

It's so hot and humid in here. So damn hot! It makes the air so thick I can barely breathe and it feels as if it's getting harder and harder for me to draw air into my lungs.

My throat feels raw and parched from all the yelling I've done.

Damn it! I don't have any water.

I need water desperately, even though I have no idea where any water source might be.

I'll figure it out later though, I guess. Right now, I have to keep my mind occupied. There's gotta be some sort of light source around here somewhere.

If I find anything, hopefully it will give me directions and make me feel less lost. Even if I do end up being lost in the end, at least my mind will have some peace.

I'm having difficulty keeping my eyes focused properly.

I close my left eye tightly and focus my gaze on one spot, then another.

Nothing. Nothing in sight, anyway.

It's just too damned dark down here.

I let my hand drift over and rest upon my forehead.

What was I doing?

Flowers.

Yes. Flowers. I was looking for flowers.

I don't feel flowers.

I can't feel the trees. Dirty and dirty. And gravel.

It's not just grass. I can't feel any plants at all. Nothing. There are no plants. I can't feel any grass. I can't feel any flowers. I can't feel any trees. It's just dirt and more dirt. And gravel. And I broke a nail. I hate dirt so damned much. Why does there have to be so much damned dirt?

No shrubs grow here. I can't feel any grass.

No ferns. No hedges. No plants. No plants at all.

No foliage. No hedges. No shrubberies. No thickets.

No briers. No bushes. No grains.

Why? Where the hell am I?

There are no forests here. No forests. No trees.

No birds or insects. Or any sounds other than my own footsteps crunching on dry, unblemished dirt.

Where is this place? Who made it look like this?

I need a place to call home. But there's only emptiness and me walking in endless circles and not getting anywhere. It's so strange...

But I don't want to be here. I want to find someplace else.

I don't feel any grass or bushes. No fence. No plants. No leaves. There is no fence. There are no bushes. No thistle. There are no bushes. No grains. No fruit. No fence. No herbs. No vegetation. There is no dike. No weeds. No watercourse. No roses. There are no bushes. No brush. No strawberries, no trees. Neither trees nor seedlings can be found. No seeds. There are no bushes anywhere. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. No trees. No vines. No leaves. There are no banks.

No berries. No hedgerows. No herbs. No vegetation. No hedges. No under brush. No brushwood. No roses. No bushes. No brambles. No burs.

No trees. I can't find any trees.

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No saplings. No seedlings. No timbers. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees at all. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless.

Where did the trees go?

No vines. No leaves.

I am not indoors either.

No floors. No canvases. No chairs. No tables. No benches. No desks. No floors, towels or chairs. There is no table. No carpets. No bed. No bookcase. No furniture at all. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!

Just dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. Just so much fucking godforsaken dirt.

I am outdoors. In nature. In dirty, grimy nature.

I should be in my tent.

Sleeping.

I'm tired of this.

I can't do this any more. How does anyone live like this? Why am I living like this? I can't do this any more. It's driving me crazy.

I should be in my tent.

My tent! Where did that go? Where is my tent? It is right there! My tent! Where did it go? Where is it? Who took it? Why is it gone? What did they take? Is it still there?

Who took my tent?

If anyone comes near my tent, I will have them dead before their legs even hit the ground. If anyone tries to steal from me or steal my tent from me again, I will kill them.

But I don't have anything to steal now.

The tent is in my bag. They stole it. Who stole my tent? Who wants my tent?

My tent! Where is my tent? Did someone take it too?

Why does everything smell like dust? Or dirt.

There is no table. No carpet, no bedding. There are no books. There is no furniture. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, just dirt, dirt left here by God. Dirt that doesn't belong to Him! Dirt that belongs to me! That belongs to all of us. That belongs to the Earth. Earth of the Earth! That's what dirt is! Dirt that belongs to the trees and gives them life! Dirt that belongs to the animals and sustains their existence! To the birds, to the fish, to the bugs, to the worms, to the jellyfish. To me!

Dirt that belongs to me. I am the Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets. Everything on the Triple Planets is mine!

Dirt doesn't belong to God. It doesn't belong to him. He can't have it. It should not be his! This dirt shouldn't be anywhere near His feet!

I am a god! The one and only! A god, like Him! But why? Why is this dirt mine?! Why has God given it to me?!

Why do people love dirt so much?!

"Why do they need to touch it?" I ask myself.

The dirt is my treasure. Dirt is how I keep my power. Dirt is the source of my immortality. Dirt is how I control the entire universe. Dirt makes everything I touch shine.

Dirt makes everyone else glow too.

"Why does dirt make them happy?" I ask myself.

Dirt makes everything better. It fills your heart with joy, and you know deep down inside you're in a good place. Dirt makes you feel like nothing could go wrong. Dirt makes you feel free.

This is where I belong, floating through space, surrounded by dirt. It makes me happy and peaceful, it makes me forget about all that's going on around me.

This is where I live. Right now.

Where do I live? What do I call it? Where do I go to hide when the sun is beating down from high above the ground and the air tastes like metal in the back of my throat? Is there an exact definition for the name I'm supposed to give it?

He was out there somewhere when we started our search. He was there. He knew. He knew our planet was dying and he did nothing. He let us die.

And then we found BoomFuzzy.

He was there and he was alive.

And then he wasn't anymore.

Now he's dead.

BoomFuzzy is dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead!

He's dead, dead, dead.

All gone.

Gone forever.

Just gone, gone, gone.

And left me alone.

Gone, like he never existed.

I should have died in his place.

No cares about me.

No one wants me.

He had friends. He had people who needed him.

No one needed me.

I should have died instead.

And now I'm back here in this filthy, filthy, dirty world. This dirt filled, filthy, dirt blasted dirt, with its stink and its pain. With its misery and its hopelessness.

No.

I don't remember anything.

I don't know where I am or how I got here.

Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing except that thing called pain.

So much pain!

Pain in my leg and pain in my back and pain in my hip and pain in my hands and pain in my head.

Just pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain!

No.

No more dirt.

I hate dirt.

My hands in my hair again. They're wet and sticky and sweaty, with mud all over them. Dry clay and sticky sweat, equals the worst type of mud at all.

Mud in my hair.

Mud on my face.

Thee mud is everywhere.

I hate it! I hate. I hate it!

Its on my clothes and all around me. Everything is dirty and gross and I just want to get away from it. I don't want this. I want BoomFuzzy back.

I just want to be with BoomFuzzy.

I don't want anything else.

BoomFuzzy is gone to Hell and I'm left here on Earth.

This of not Heaven.

No.

This is the opposite of Heaven.

The opposite of Heaven. The opposite of Paradise.

The opposite of Heaven. The opposite of anything.

This is not paradise. This is Hell. Hell. Hell. Everywhere.

This is Hell. Where everyone who dies lives forever.

Forever and ever and ever and ever.

Hell, where no one has happiness. No one has peace. Where death is never truly rest. Where pain remains for eternity. Where no one has hope or purpose or joy. This is Hell. Nothing but Hell.

Hell is made of dirt.

Dirt.

Dirt, dirt, everywhere.

EVERYWHERE!

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, just dirt, dirt left here by God.

Dirt, dirt everywhere.

Everywhere.

All over me.

On me.

Staining me.

Drying me.

Drying me out.

Drying me out, all over. A

ll around me.

Soiled.

Soiled.

Soiled.

My pink silks are soiled.

Dirt on me. Mud. Sand. Dust.

Dried blood.

Damned bloody nose.

Damned scraped knees.

My clothes are filthy.

Not dirty enough.

It's worse than dirt and mud, because dirt washes away. Muddy. Unkempt. Wet. Dirty. It dries.

Not like dirt.

Not dirty enough.

Not dirt. It takes dirt off. Dirt gets cleaned off.

And so damned fucking dark in here!

I don't know what dirt looks like anymore.

It's all the same now, the way everything has been for so long.

It makes my eyes hurt.

They sting so hard.

So hard they burn.

They itch so hard.

And yet, still the tears come. And they keep coming even when my eyes stop hurting and my skin stops itching and my throat heals up from being dry and scratchy. They still fall.

When the first raindrop falls, they are almost the last drops of water that trickle through the clouds. When I hear the second drop, I look toward the source of the sound, but it doesn't land where the third drops were falling. Crying for trees. Where are the trees.

There is no forest without leaves. Why am I not at home? There is no canvas. There is no chair. Without seats without seating, there is no carpet without an office. Nothing. Nothing! I'm waiting for a dirty. . . what is this? Do you feel something? What are you?

Wait. What's this?

I feel something.

What is this? What are you?

It's wood. It's not a tree. It's square. It's sharp. It has a corner. And OW! Splinters. Now I have a splinter! Damn you! What are you?

A beam? A beam, leaned on something.

On what?

A wall? Are you a wall?

Yes. A wall.

Wooden.

Am I inside? I'm inside. No. Yes? Maybe.

How? How am I inside? There's so much dirt. What is this? Why is there so much dirt inside? It feels like a road, all packed in and travelled on. Busy, busy, like on the highway. No. This is not a highway. I'm not outside. I'm inside. In. . . in what? Am I in a cave? How did I get into a cave? AM I in a cave? Why am I in a cave? Is this a cave? I can't tell.

Where am I? Where did the beams go. I need to feel them again. Something's not right here. This can't be a cave.

It should be more open. I'll look around. I'll find more wooden posts. I need to find more wooden posts. Oh! There's something else out there! There must be a door. I wonder if it's big enough for me. I wonder what it looks like. I hope it opens. If it's just one door then it isn't too tight for me.

It's not a door but it is something I can open, I think. It's kind of hard but I try. The latch is very complicated. So many buttons and knobs and switches. And a whole bunch of levers and knobs. How is a lever supposed to work, anyway? But I guess I do. I push down a switch and I hear an odd sound.

Click?

Did I hear a click?

Something clicked.

What?

Where?

I can't see a blasted thing.

How did I get here?

You're a vertical surface. You can help me up. I won't have to crawl around grovelling in the dirt any more. If I hold on to the wall and walk along you, maybe I can find my way out of here and back into sunlight. Why is it so damned dark in here? I can't see a thing.

Searching. Probing.

Probing. Searching.

Through the darkness, for anything that might reveal to me where I am.

Piling. Scaffolding. Plank.

Joist. Pillar. Rough. Old.

Crumbling. Decayed. Decomposed.

Mouldered. Rotted.

It will collapse. Oh! It's not stable. It gives if I lean on it.

This whole place will fall in on me.

Wait. I felt, gravel on the ground. Where was that.

Ah! I found you. Cold. Smooth.

Hard.

It's a crystal. Is it ice?

Quartz? Maybe? Or Selenite?

These aren't gravel.

They're gemstones.

Am I in a mine? Oh my! Did I fall down a mine shaft? Oh that's not good. Some mines are miles deep. And have so little air. But a mine! No wonder there is no light. I could be miles underground.

Oh dear. That would be horrible, wouldn't it?

Oh! The dark.

It will go away eventually. I'm sure it'll go away. I can't see anything. I won't find any water or any food.

Oh no.

How long has it been? Days, weeks, months? Time doesn't seem to have meaning here. It's like being in the past, but not really. It's not real time and all time isn't real either. But what am I supposed to do now?

I need a name. That's silly. You don't use names anymore. I can't think of one. My name is Joist. What else should I say?

My thoughts wander and my body drifts.

I know this is how things work when you're dead.

No, that's wrong.

There aren't people who just die from falling.

I feel like I'm drifting. It's almost peaceful.

That's odd, because this is the first time I've ever been able to float. Floating used to be an unpleasant experience, but now it's sort of nice, like floating in a warm bath. I wonder why I can't swim any more? I can feel myself getting tired and tired. It feels like I'll lose consciousness any minute now. But I can feel something, like...

By the feel of the stone and dirt and massive timber beams on the wall, it's gem mine. A Dwarven gem mine. I seem to have found myself in a roughly hewn chamber of some sort. Some sort of cave. Or a tunnel. A sod house, maybe?

A mine? Oh. It IS a mine isn't it? A Dwarf mine? No? Yes. It must be. It has to be. What else could it be? How did I get in a Dwarf mine? I can see nothing, damn it! The shades of stone, dirt and rot from the huge wooden posts hanging from the walls are all the same. Pitch black. Blacker than my string of black pearls. Where are those? I should wear them again. If I ever get out of here. I need to get out of here.

The beams feel like scaffolding for mine shafts.

I can't find out for certain in this dank darkness.

A tunnel, perhaps?

Under a mountain?

But to do what?

And where?

Where am I?

How did I arrive here?

I simply can not recall.

Why can't I remember?

Have I stumbled into a mine shaft?

Did I discover a mine by accident?

I do not remember. Why can't I remember? Why is my memory so poor of late. I forget so much.

It concerns me greatly that I can not remember in what way or manner I arrived at this place. Did I come here by design? Was I abducted? If so, than by who?

And why?

And where are they?

Why would they leave me alone here?

Why can't I remember how I got here?

Or was it a portal? Oh! It could have been a portal! Did I fall into a portal?

Oh!

I could be any where.

Any planet. Any dimension. Any time.

Oh! How would I even know?

By what means did I come to be here?

And where exactly was here?

How on earth am I supposed to get home?

What if I never find a way back to where ever I came from? What then? Will I die here?

I am not sure whether to be frightened or elated. Is it possible for one to die and still be alive? Or will I finally be granted rest after being so tormented?

Is this death? Is this eternal torment?

Perhaps that is not the worst option. Perhaps death itself might be preferable to eternal torment. Perhaps it is better to live forever in hell than to be trapped here for all eternity as well.

If I were trapped here forever, I would die sooner or later. I cannot see the future anymore. There are no more memories, no more thoughts, no more ideas. It has all ended. There is nothing.

I am not going to die like this.

I don’t want to die like this.

If there is anything at all I can do to prolong my stay here, I must. Even if it means suffering endless boredom and isolation.

My name is Quirinus. That's it. No. That's not right either.

The story is over.

Now I need to begin again.

The question before us now is; How many days will it take for someone to notice I've gone missing?

It is dark.

It is so dark.

So very dark.

So very extremely dark.

So very extremely, extraordinarily dark.

Ah! What are you? Nothing helpful? Time-worn wooden pilings are leaning against walls. I can feel them. And the walls are made out of stone and collapsing clay. Dry clay. Smooth and silky. It'd be good for my skin. I should take some with me, but I've no way to carry any.

Not a weapon either.

Oh.

Oh no.

And what was that sound? I hear sounds. I don't know what they are. I can't see a thing. I hate that I can't see. I'm wandering in blindness.

The sound of running water?

Water. Echoing through the darkness.

Running. Falling.

Water.

I'm so thirsty. I need to head towards the sound of the water.

I don't know anything about this place, and neither does anyone else, and if we run out of food or water then we won't last long anyway.

I'm hungry. And thirsty. There's a spring close by, I can hear it. And maybe there's something else nearby. A stream maybe? Water from the sky. A nice drink after being in the rain. Yes, that would be nice indeed. If I was on land. Which I'm not. I'm underground. Miles and miles underground. Under hill. Under dale. Under mountain.

My head hurts, like someone has taken a stick to it. I try to remember what happened.

I am in the cave, I think. And then there was... an explosion. And purple smoke.

And I was running. I was jogging with a bunch of trees. And it made my leg soar. My damned lame leg. I shouldn't have run. It hurt my hip.

And I fell through the floor, no, off a cliff.

I tried to grab a hold of something, but I couldn't see what.

Then the ceiling collapsed, and it became dark and I couldn't get up.

The pain was all over, it felt as though someone had reached inside of my brain and twisted. I can't remember. I just know I was running, and then I hit something hard and black and when I opened my eyes again everything was gone.

I open my eyes to see myself on the ground.

Oh gods, oh god oh gods I'm going to die. My heart is racing, and I feel faint.

Quaraun continued inching ahead, ever so slowly.

Deliberately. Reaching out. Hands outstretched.

Into the darkness. Touching the wall.

The dirt on the wall is thick and dry, barren, parched, but not sandy. It's. . . powdery.

Caked. Clumping. Smoothly textured like talc mixed with clay. Heavy. It smells like the rich dark peat clay found under a forest's leaf carpet.

What a wonderful smell.

Dirt would be nice if it wasn't so dirty.

I love the smell of dirt.

I just hate how badly it soils my clothes. And my hands. And my hair. Silk is so hard to get clean. This clay smells so nice. If mixed it with water it would feel so nice on my skin.

Using his fingers on the earth wall as a guide, Quaraun pursued the passage, hoping to find an exit. Or at the very least, a light.

Who knew what is lurking in the darkness with me? Beasts. Monsters. Bandits. There could be dangers lurking all around me. I'd not know to run.