Wild Berry Meadow You're not gonna make it.

hallelujah he's going to live!

It was as if the shadows were taking shape behind him. They were seeping out of their many crevices and filling the pit like the flooding of a river; it was all in his mind but Mou could hear it over the scraping of his claws. It happened quickly. He felt the chill of the shadows reaching for him — and a memory of the sea began to surface — together, the darkness washed over him like a great wave, and then it rolled back like the undulation of the tide as it condensed in to the shape of the bear.

It rose up behind him, ten times its size in reality. Mou's mind was playing tricks, his imagination running rampant as he struggled against the pit's crumbling wall.

The voice again — it grew distant and Mou felt his heart seize within his chest, thinking that he was being abandoned to the darkness and the beast. If he was a little bigger, a little stronger, maybe he could've climbed out without aid — but he was barely there, a ghost so desperate to return to the world of the living. And yet the living had abandoned him.

He had been so afraid throughout this entire ordeal but to have freedom so close, to have it dangled before him and then pulled away, brought tears to his eye and a new desperation to the rest of him.