Once again, Amtyo was lost.

Survive a bar fight, get through a close encounter with a dragon, and this is what he got? All he could think about was the cold wind that seemed to be freezing his entire body since the moment he fell out of the tunnel. Stuck for nearly an hour in a tight dark space, he only got out by casting his "Flame" spell until the stalactites and stalagmites catching him burned up. Stalagmites, stalactites, he could never remember which was which. He gave a kick to the stalagmite- tite?- on the ground.

"Yow!" It was sharp! He picked it up, and after poking himself with it (blood started pouring out) he carefully stuffed it in his pocket.

He groaned. How long had it been since he ate last? It was this morning, in the inn, where he noticed someone was following him. And as much as he'd like to go after his stalker, sword in one hand, fire in the other, he was, after all, weak.

He was tired, too. He had ran all the way from the inn, miles away, to try to lose his follower, and, with a grim smile, he realized he had done just that, but more; He not only lost his follower, he had also lost his way.

He sat down. Too weak to warm himself with Flame, he lay there, shivering, yawning, bloody... The pricked finger was still bleeding. Must be poison, he thought. The stalag-stalac-whatever- had been vibrating faintly from his pocket, and his fears seemed to have been confirmed as he felt a powerful shake, like the stala-thingy was saying "Yes, I am poison!"

He heard a slow brushing sound, as if someone was whispering quietly. He jumped up (Ouch!), alert. The whisperings became louder. He gripped the poison sta- item in his pocket and took it out. Suddenly, he saw a creature jump out! They must have smelled the blood, he groaned as more and more of the black, rat-like creatures jumped out. He was surrounded! Well, he thought, I guess I'll have to fight!

Cold. That was all Saruit could think of. Too cold to think. Too cold to be angry. Too cold to feel...

He was in the dark Tunnels, for the third straight night. He had been here ever since the night he had been beaten up in the bar, carried out unconsciously by the criminals who started the fight, and woke up here. He had survived off candy he nicked from the bar before, and, running out the previous night, he was starving.

Well, he thought, I'm dead. No one will miss me, the only sadness that will be felt will be of the young man whose candy I took. He was so angry he could have punched the wall in, if he could muster up the strength to move. But no, he couldn't. So this is death? He felt no pain. After all, he was almost frozen, and the only way to feel pain was to move, a feat he couldn't do. I wish I could feel anything, he prayed. Even pain! What I would give to feel it, anything, please...

He heard a noise coming from the tunnel south of him. It sounded like something fell! Summoning up all the power he could, he crawled forward to the noise. It was a boy, no more than fifteen, that had appeared. He looked tired, hungry... almost like what Saruit imagined himself to be. Crawling forward even more, he tried to make himself present. No later than the second he moved, the boy sat up, alert. There was something in the dark! He saw what appeared to be a large cat jump out into the light provided by the boy's flame. But before he could move any more, he heard a noise from above.

He looked up.