[h3]Out of the Cave, and into the Fire[/h3]
[img]http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/274/7/4/cave_sketch_by_anvilworm-d6osl6y.png[/img]

[i]How long have I been down here? How many times? How-[/i]

Again he awoke to nothing but shadow, and that same pain persisted in his chest though now it had dulled. He always awoke face to the earth, his body cold and his things scattered out in the shadows. How many times had he gone through this? It was just rise, repeat- over and over again. He was beginning to forget what he was doing here, why would he be here? Who was he?

[i]"Oy, Pick!"[/i]

Those words echo'd again in the back of his mind. 'Pick'. That was him name, right? Or was it 'Mate'? No- 'Pick' seemed right. But why? Why why why whywhwywhwywhwyw[i]hwywhwyyyy....[/i]

Another scream of frustration, another screech of the reaping soon to come, another splash of crimson never to see the light of day. How many times was that now? It was hard to remember how many- it was hard to remember at all. 

Shivering, Pick pushed himself off the floor again, awakening the same way each time but still just as lost as he had been the first. Was there a first time? He couldn't remember- there must have been a first- [i]cold...[/i]

A chilling quake ran down Pick's spine, and he shuddered as his eyes tried to adjust to the shadow. It had taken him only a few tries to learn that lighting his lamp always ended badly. Then it had taken a few more to learn that if his shovel scraped any stone that was it. Now he just had to get over the pain in his ribs, and stay quiet. His breathing became shallow as he tried learning to cope with the situation, little clouds of his breath dissolving into the stale air. It was coming again- it was only a mater of time before it took him again. IT was just waiting for him to do something wrong. Break one rule of it's twisted game and you had to start all over.

The board had changed this time though. With a hand pressing to the ground, Pick's scarred fingers lightly raked through what felt like soil. His pinkie caught on something, and he seized up in preparation for whatever had come to end him but nothing happened. It was only a root. 

[i]A root. Trees. The- the surface...[/i]

Shakily Pick pushed himself off the wall and onto his knees, feeling the dirt floor and finding both his shovel and helmet. They were his, weren't they? They were always there when he awoke, but still each time he clung to them till the end in fear he wouldn't see them again. Perhaps this time wasn't an end though- and with that thought, Pick stood in the tunnel and drove his shovel up. A soft crunch- soil fell downward, and in the distance something stirred. Again and again, Pick jabbed the spade over his head as more dirt fell away and roots crunched as they were snapped by the metal edge. 

[b]IT[/b] screamed, and with adrenalin pumping through his veins Pick clawed and stabbed at the earth above him. The rake of claws through soil accompanied the flood of shadow moving through the underground, and the pain in Pick's chest grew more intense with each clod of dirt that fell past him. IT was upon him, screaming in defiance of Pick's very existence and with one final cry the spade was thrust upward once more.

The tool left his hands, diving out of the tunnel and into the aperture of light it had created. The beam broke the darkness and stabbed through the shadow like the tooth of some great beast sinking into the flesh of the earth. Pick scrambled back, away from IT and shut his eyes in preparation for what came next.

There was nothing though. He didn't wake up this time- no, this time he was still awake. Slowly, Pick opened his eyes to see the beam of light shining down; dull but far brighter than anything he had seen for a long time. In the distance he could still hear the scrape of claws, though it was a slow and irregular sound now as opposed to the rapid clicks from moments ago. Knowing there would be no second chances, Pick looked toward the pinhole of light and clawed towards it, ripping apart the earth and emerging into the sunlight. 

Pick pulled himself from the hole, sobbing as he hugged the brittle grass beneath him and kissed the dry soil it grew in. "YES!" He screamed towards the heavens, on his knees with fists held high in the air. He'd won the game, he'd beaten IT, he could return to what had been befo-

[i]What was before?[/i]

As his eyes adjusted to the light, Pick took in his surroundings and felt that sense of loss return all to quickly. He was at the edge of a long dead forest, near the fringes of what he could see as rolling grass hills. A dry, "Oh," escaped Pick's cracked lips, hardly a whisper that was quickly blown away by a soundless wind. Slowly he pushed himself to stand, trembling as one hand grasped the handle of his shovel which he then used to help support his effort to get upright. 

For a while, all he could do was look- examining the surrounding terrain and seeing there was far more to this land than just trees and hills. From his somewhat admirable vantage point, there was a fair amount of land to be seen but it all felt strangely empty and anything too far away was blurred, and shrouded by fog. The one thing that stood out though was the mountain- a king among the rest of the land's features which drew Pick's eye as if it were actually demanding his attention. A passing memory drifted through his skull, and with his free hand Pick dug through the pockets of his jacket until he found the tattered piece of paper he somehow knew would be there. 

Sloppily, he unfolded it; the brown paper aged and filthy but still holding together well. Most of the map was unreadable, but on one of the far corners was a jagged looking triangle that could only be a mountain. It's name was faded to nothing, and whatever notes had been written near the shape were almost impossible to read.


[i][b]This****************************** digg**g up ********** of va************************************ey were abando******************he people *********************************rbed sp************************ separated ************* here.[/b][/i]


Pick squinted at the faded smudges, trying to make sense of what was still readable but failing. The one thing that he could connect though was 'separated here', and the large X drawn halfway up the mountain on what looked like a crag. "Huh," he murmured, looking at the mountain in the distance. Taking his only hint thus far, Pick folded the map up and left the forest behind with only the mountain now in his thoughts. [i]Doesn't look that far,[/i] he thought, shovel clutched in one hand as he tried to ignore the aching in his ribs.