Plunged into the deep and endless dark of the cold basement, the sound of the storm muted enough to be faint white noise in an otherwise silent tomb, Hanna found herself turned around. She fumbled, sometimes stumbling into things and reaching blindly.

Finally, she remembered the mostly bare wall, and moved as stealthily as she could until her hand touched cold stone. It was her only hope—assuming this was the correct wall. It had better be. She decided she had no other alternative than to use it as a wayfinding guide.

Groping along the wall with her left hand, Hanna reached blindly with her right hand to make sure there were no surprises. Every other small step, she stopped and reached a foot out to check ahead. So far, so good. Maybe her luck was changing, for she hadn’t yet had any major accidents—or been attacked by groups of rats, or a twelve foot mothman. Still, she had to be weary.

In the darkness, her ears strained to pick up any slight sound of movement that wasn’t her own. She breathed as silently as she could, slow steady breaths in and out. This must be what it’s like to be blind, she thought to herself. She didn’t dare speak now. Not this far in, lost in the dark, and alone. She was crazy sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid. At least, she didn’t think so. Although she DID listen to Aema and come down into this creepy basement.

Her progress was painfully slow going, and she couldn’t be sure which direction she was moving, but Hanna continued on. At first, she thought she heard something. A hiss? A sigh? She shook her head and waved it off as being part of her imagination. Until she heard it again.

It’s a pipe, she told herself. A steam pipe. A valve. Like the stupid pipe from before, clanging and knocking near the basement stairs. It’s nothing.

Still, she shivered and kept close to the wall.

Reaching out, Hanna’s fingers touched something smooth and solid. She felt thick dust come away on her fingers. Those boxes, she thought to herself. I’ve reached that pile of boxes. Which meant she had to leave the safety of the wall and try to make her way around them. What had been beyond them? She couldn’t remember if she’d paid attention to anything else before the light went out.

I just had to be distracted by the casks, she thought bitterly, her deep frown hidden in the darkness.

A soft scraping sound pricked at her ears. She strained to hear. Nothing. Then, a quiet scraping sound. It continued to stop and start, seeming to be far away and close at the same time. She swallowed hard.

Okay, scraping, she thought. What could that be? A…mouse? A rat? A rat dragging the carcass of a poor mouse until it brings it back to its lair, and its rat friends, before it finally—

No. She couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t go there. There had to be an explanation. Still, the fear gripped her, and her hand no longer trailed and gripped boxes. She had gone around them, but was left without a wall. It was as if it had disappeared. Now, lost, blind, and alone in the dark, she had no guideposts to go by, so she began to continue her near-silent steps, hands reaching out for anything she might cling to.

Stolen story; please report.

She heard it then. Something. Something low and gravelly. She froze, a cold sweat forming on her skin. She forced herself to breath normally, afraid the shaky breaths could be heard by whatever lurked in the darkness. She told herself to continue forward, but all she really wanted to do was scream and bolt back to the stairs. To have Aema or Candace. Even Chaos would do in a situation like this. At least maybe then she could order him into the dark to slay the beast! Though, that in itself would be a long and pointless debate..

Okay, so maybe not Chaos. But someone! Alexander, Undertaker—Sol! If Sol were here, she’d probably have some dry, snarky thing to say to the beast before she showed it what a real monster was. Or maybe she was just imagining her Leader and Patron as a shining white knight because she really needed it now.

Another sound in the darkness had her eyes widening like saucers. I’m just imagining things, she thought, forcing herself to take one step, then another. But everything in her brain screamed that it was sure she had just heard a growl.

The sound seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. A low growl. A hiss. Ragged breathing. Another low growl. The sound of something scraping over something else.

Tears pricked her eyes and did her best to suppress the squeaky whine that threatened to bubble up in her throat. She decided then and there that wherever she was, she was going to try to get out. Screw that stupid fuse box! Or was she supposed to find a breaker? Whatever! That was enough, she was getting out now! Aema could come and do this herself. She would be braver anyway. Probably.

Another step, then another. Her hand reached out, fingers spread, hoping for anything that could give her stability.

And then she felt it.

-

Damp and warm. It was soft and also firm. Was it pulsating? Either way, her hands were only on it a second before she jerked it away with a cry. She shrieked as the thing in the darkness let out a deep shriek of its own. “Aargh!” Hanna screamed, and couldn’t stop.

The being cried out again as she screamed. Hanna dropped to the hard floor, her legs giving out from under her as the overwhelming pool of tears that had formed threatened to fall.

And then it screamed.

“FUUUCK! What in the fecking blue blazes was that?!” screamed the voice, the sound of something like a chair scraping and something piled toppling over made Hanna jerk. But the creature’s voice…

Hanna blinked and sniffed back her tears. “..Sol?” she asked weakly, her voice breaking.

“Hanna?” came the return voice. “What the hell! What in the gods’ names are you trying to do, KILL me?!”

Hanna would have believed Sol was actually angry with her, had it not been for Sol’s exasperated tone. Well, and the fact that no matter what she did, Sol never seemed to get angry with her. Sol didn’t often get very angry with anyone—unless they used up all the cream for her coffee or took her last piece of pie. She could be pretty territorial about her belongings.

She also was easily angered by injustice. If someone was needlessly cruel to someone else or treated them unfairly. The first time she saw her truly angry, it was something of a surprise.

A manic laugh of terror bubbled up in Hanna’s throat and spilt from her lips as the tears spilt from her eyes. She brought her hands to her face to try to stop the laugh, but the tension cut by the fact that her Leader spilled out profanity—just as scared as she was—somehow made the fears seem ridiculous. Monster rats? Moth-people? Why not aliens? She laughed and cried now because she was safe.

“It’s not funny!” Sol scolded, her voice breaking with the last word as she erupted in her own laughter. “You really scared the shit out of me!” she laughed. “It might have been literally, if I hadn’t used the facilities before I came down here!

Hanna relaxed and wiped away the already drying tears. “I thought—I thought that you were a monster or something,” she admitted, feeling Sol’s hand pat her shoulder in the darkness and locate her arm to help Hanna up. She nearly knocked Sol over as she threw her arms around her Leader’s waist before pulling away.

“Ugh, Sol! Why are you wet?”

“Because, Hanna,” Sol began soberly, all humor gone. “That’s the blood from when you killed me.”