Whitefish River I'll catch you...

Dust and debris continued to fall around him, Emrik coughed and sputtered. Covered from head to tail in dirt, Em looked around confused. He was surrounded by darkness, save for the stream of light coming from the whole above his head. Thoroughly disorientated he looked blearily up at the voices shouting down at him.

Giving another cough her tried to call back up, “Connor?” He tried first, the sound coming out as barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat again, with more force. “Connor? Inna? He called again, this time the sound loud enough to travel. He tried to look around at his surroundings but found it almost impossible to see.

Attempting to stand, Emrik found that he was relatively uninjured. Miraculously. He had bruises, and his head ached, but other than that he was fine. Until he took a step. It appeared he had landed on a bed of dirt and moss, breaking his fall. But he had done damage to his front left paw. There wasn’t enough light to discern what was wrong, but it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.