Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
The Labyrinth wasn’t like all the other worlds he’d ever explored: no major indication of any alterations, any nuances, any distortions, save for less or more squirrels. He reserved and refused to sneer in their direction, but was sorely tempted in some petulant, irritated way, tired, fatigued, by every other notion spiraling in his head. He wanted to get in, find the herb, and get out, correspond to the other requests, portions of the sojourn, and carry on. Otherwise lost, he was almost entirely dependent on Sunjata’s memory, sighing and listening, parts the same, parts different, alterations made in the midst of its warren efforts (perhaps rumors and stories were true).
“All right,” he murmured in response, because he had nothing else to go on save his own embittered willpower, and he marched steadily in the direction Sunjata insinuated. Left, where trees were recognizable. “Are we getting any closer then?” Maybe it was a sign of certain rows or hedges, an indicator, a marker, in the haze of yesteryears and their morphing properties. Or perhaps it was just another trick of the world, and they were merely drifting along.
“All right,” he murmured in response, because he had nothing else to go on save his own embittered willpower, and he marched steadily in the direction Sunjata insinuated. Left, where trees were recognizable. “Are we getting any closer then?” Maybe it was a sign of certain rows or hedges, an indicator, a marker, in the haze of yesteryears and their morphing properties. Or perhaps it was just another trick of the world, and they were merely drifting along.
DEIMOS
