Are
"Why must there always be stumbling?" Are whispered to himself as he sat up with caution, making sure he'd not broken anything beyond another pack frame. His head was thankfully only throbbing like before, beyond that the damage was mostly superficial as far as he could tell, just a bruised rib or two, the beam that had given out had not been as lucky though. Falling around him in rotten splinters and solid little pieces that had held on for just long enough to allow Are to get beyond the point of no return.
He looked back up the mill tower where the glinting still could be seen. A sliver of what exactly, he wasn't sure, but he was damned sure it was more interesting than the pack of bits and bobs he'd scavenged thus far.
With another groan he got up and brushed off the worst of the dust and wood. Standing there atop a pile of old brick work looking up at the tantalizing glitter he shook his head again, spat out his disappointment and a small mouthful of blood he crawled defeated out of the collapsed doorway.
The mill stood tall and alluring as he gave it one last look before sitting down by a trickle to wash his tools and start on patching his pack as best as he could. Not enough for any more tumbles in the pale afternoon light, but just enough to hold 'til he could get home.
And homeward bound he was, that was, until he thought he'd spotted movement. Something beyond jackdaws and squirrels digging through the dilapidated surroundings for a scrap of food or nesting material. No, he could've sworn he saw something bigger moving among the rubble.
Or someone?
He looked back up the mill tower where the glinting still could be seen. A sliver of what exactly, he wasn't sure, but he was damned sure it was more interesting than the pack of bits and bobs he'd scavenged thus far.
With another groan he got up and brushed off the worst of the dust and wood. Standing there atop a pile of old brick work looking up at the tantalizing glitter he shook his head again, spat out his disappointment and a small mouthful of blood he crawled defeated out of the collapsed doorway.
The mill stood tall and alluring as he gave it one last look before sitting down by a trickle to wash his tools and start on patching his pack as best as he could. Not enough for any more tumbles in the pale afternoon light, but just enough to hold 'til he could get home.
And homeward bound he was, that was, until he thought he'd spotted movement. Something beyond jackdaws and squirrels digging through the dilapidated surroundings for a scrap of food or nesting material. No, he could've sworn he saw something bigger moving among the rubble.
Or someone?
