galvarelli/calvin-stuck-at-cave.txt
2021-11-27 20:38:31 -06:00

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Calvin woke to a complete darkness.
His mind seemed thick, and his head pounded.
The blow to his head came back to his mind.
Betrayed, by a guard he'd trusted.
Somehow brainwashed by the New Meadowlark, or something like that.
Calvin stamped his hoof against the ground, and listened to the echo off the walls.
It sounded like he was in a large chamber, which Calvin hoped would be good as far as air was concerned.
But he didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, and wasn't sure what the signs of lack of air would be.
He touched his head.
The helm had been stolen, and he assumed the sword had gone with it.
He still had his pack, which had a bit of food and water.
And, Calvin remembered, an electric torch.
After the initial shock to his eyes, the light revealed that he was in a relatively smooth room, around twenty feet one way and thirty feet in the other.
The ceiling was quite tall, and Calvin couldn't quite make out how far above the chamber went.
Calvin walked to one end and walked around the walls of his chamber, feeling the stone.
It was smooth all the way around.
The lack of doors made sense if they'd had the Pathbreaker seal him in, which meant he was probably completely sealed in.
Calvin reflexively kicked back in anger, and hit the wall behind him.
A sharp pain bounced up his leg, and when he turned to look, the wall was unchanged.
Even that was ineffective.
He turned off the torch to preserve the battery, sank to the ground and began to sob.
Calvin once again woke to a complete darkness.
Apparently, he'd managed to cry himself into sleep.
No obvious improvement to his situation presented itself, which meant he needed to find a way to do it himself.
He thought about the Meadowlark manual, and started the breathing exercise again.
His breath stilled, he pictured the smell of a grassy hill, the flow of water and the tight grip of roots.
He felt himself being pulled in by a wave of yaks spreading across a plain, and he pictured the Haven as their destination.
He held on to that image, and tried to avoid focussing on the pain that his head was insistently pounding out.
He felt his hooves tingling as they sank into the stone below him, and he felt the sinews of his legs vibrate as he stood tall.
The stone under him revealed a hidden warmth underneath, a vein of life or power or something good, and he tried to reach out to touch it, but found it out of grip.
Straining, he pulled at it, pawing at it wildly, desperately.
Unsuccessful, he changed his plan, and tried to push more warmth into the stone.
He felt it sneaking out of him like a thread.
The thread of power reached for the deeper well below, until wrapping itself around the vein.
Calvin pulled on it, and after a small initial resistance, it came flooding back into him.
Calvin opened his eyes, and turned on the flashlight.
He was standing where he remembered, and he didn't feel anything.
A few taps on the ground again felt like nothing unusual.
Although, nothing unusual _was_ unusual, right?
His rear leg no longer hurt, and his head felt clear, and pain-free.
In fact, Calvin felt better than he'd felt in a long time.
Somehow he'd managed to pull some sort of life from somewhere beyond the stone, and it had healed him.
Calvin flipped through the manual again, and started to look at the next exercise.