Haunted Wood Way down we go.

Hour pass, nothing really changes. He sometimes thinks he is being watched from above; like some malevolent force is sneaking closer to the edge of the pit, and if he were to time his glances right, maybe he would catch someone overhead. He cannot be bothered to keep straining against the stiffness in his body, especially when movement would exacerbate the severity of his wounds. Revui has shed too much blood in his desperation. It was not a smart trade: the wolves of this forest were more than a match for the likes of him, although he would never openly admit as much. All he could do now was lurk in his pit, listening, making plans to pass the time... And hope, perhaps against all odds, he will survive this.