I want to bring my fear, loathing, and delusions to a pourI want to tip panic and reason into my god-fearing mouth
Amun is far more prepared than he, a fact that Nate is quietly grateful for as he accepts the pickaxe, going to work at the opposite end of the tunnel the potter does, so they can meet in the middle. His work doesn't pause as the tentative suggestion is voiced, the idea thought over, disgested. He's not sure how he's become the brain behind this, because he most certainly isn't qualified.
"A dam's a good idea." The words come as he pauses, straightening again to gesture closer to the interior of the cave, rather than the mouth. "Along there though. We don't want to block off the channel." The last few words are drowned out by the roar of thunder, the rumble of shifting and falling rocks above them. The crack as they land, and sudden shock in the back of his head as one lands squarely on him.
It might not hurt, but the rock shattering his foot does give him pause, his expression distant as a dozen emotions work themselves out on his face. It's only when he's schooled them back into something less angry that he responds, forcing a tight smile to his lips. "Just fine!" He calls back, taking a step to prove it and stumbling slightly, teeth clenching tightly. Nate refuses to let something so simple as a broken foot keep him from working though, the pickaxe not stilling. If they had to outpace the storm, they would.
"A dam's a good idea." The words come as he pauses, straightening again to gesture closer to the interior of the cave, rather than the mouth. "Along there though. We don't want to block off the channel." The last few words are drowned out by the roar of thunder, the rumble of shifting and falling rocks above them. The crack as they land, and sudden shock in the back of his head as one lands squarely on him.
It might not hurt, but the rock shattering his foot does give him pause, his expression distant as a dozen emotions work themselves out on his face. It's only when he's schooled them back into something less angry that he responds, forcing a tight smile to his lips. "Just fine!" He calls back, taking a step to prove it and stumbling slightly, teeth clenching tightly. Nate refuses to let something so simple as a broken foot keep him from working though, the pickaxe not stilling. If they had to outpace the storm, they would.
NATE
