#culang

82. Buried/Caves/Underground in a shocking turn of events, the answer is not tur morva

"I'm terrified of tight spaces."

"Oh? I think my greatest fear is drowning. Or being murdered."

"That doesn't help."

"I tried." Nethraw shrugged- or tried to- but ended up shifting enough to rain dirt down the back of his collar. Culang's heart pounded like a village alarm bell against his folded arm. He'd tackled his kinsman when the earth split, and rolled them both into a yawning pit. Still, it could be worse. There were too many assembled at the end for someone to not have seen them disappear.

He could not do much to soothe Culang's panic. They were both pinned by debris, but not crushed. In fact, his cloak was providing one of them with cover from the raining dirt. But it did not comfort Culang much.

"I find I can muster some bravery in all situations but this." Indeed, he was trying to sound brave and doing well except the quaver on the last few words. "Here we are, so close to victory, and I'm going to die--"

"You're not going to die." Nethraw knew he was not helping now, but didn't have much else to try. His own body weight was making breathing harder for his poor kinsman. Short of dying and becoming deadweight he couldn't do a lot worse.

Nethraw tried to tilt his head forward and give his nose a little more room. "In fact, we're probably the first priority. Rescue the missing, tend to the wounded, then bury the dead. And I'm not much hurt if you're not much hurt."

Culang was quiet a little too long after that. Nethraw could feel him working up a breath to speak and wondered if this was more dire a scrape than he had thought.

"I... feel like I'm dying."

Was that the fear, then, talking? Nethraw frowned. "You sound like you're living. And feel like you're living, for whatever that's worth."

This time he felt Culang squirm a little before sucking in a breath. Was this his body trying to fight his reason and escape somehow?

"Nethraw... Nethraw, I'm crushed... My heart-- I'm going to burst!" He sounded much more panicked now. Those breaths were too shallow and too fast. Inwardly, Nethraw cursed. They were relatively safe, and within minutes of rescue. But Culang unconscious presented a greater risk. He would not have it. Not now, now that they were so close--

With tremendous effort, Nethraw pushed hard on the arm raised over his head. Dirt and ash flowed across his head and neck like water. After a moment, he was able to make space enough to move his other arm. He squeezed it up and across his chest until it found the space where his chin had been. Then, he pushed it down firmly to support the rest of him.

Now there was room. His chest and arms and back burned with the effort of it, but Culang had an inch and a half of freedom. It told him something else as well- that most of what covered them was loose earth, and that not deep. The thing over one of his legs and both of Culang's had also not come free, but the pressure in that quarter was less as well. It wasn't supported by their bodies, then. It would not come undone if they shifted.

Culang tried to curl inward, but still found himself hindered. Yet, Nethraw noticed, the breaths came at a slower rate. Not so hectic and wild.

"If I'm not making it better, you could always try to drown or murder me. Then we'd at least be in the same boat." For that, at least, he got a chuckle. "If you feel as if you've got enough room, try calling for help. I've got too much dirt in my mouth."

Culang took in such a breath that even suspended as he was- for the moment, at least- Nethraw felt it brush up against him. And then he bellowed. Louder and greater was the call than perhaps even the yell of his captain. Culang did not sound so stricken now. From under the shield of his kinsman, he could call for help.

He finished, panting a little for air, and they both waited. Quite sooner than they expected, they heard an answer. Only, it was no human voice that rallied to them now, baying as it bounded closer.

"Is that... a dog?"