Hanging on Cliffs

The end of the cavern gave me no sort of closure, no hint of light outside of my crackling torch, and I still couldn’t find a damn way out. The hounds were about, each with their quartet of slobbering fang-filled heads and when I went to defend myself, they only rebounded with more intensity and in greater numbers. My injuries were manageable but pressing, my drive and zeal dwindling but not yet evaporated, and my last few gulps of bottled water in reserve for that penultimate moment when life and death sit down for a last supper on my own adventurous account.

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