Wounded in the Dark

This entry is part 8 of 11 in the series The Dark

We spotted dozens of other traps as we progressed, avoiding each with ease. They were not well hidden, seeming to be laid more as an annoyance than as to be any genuine threat. And yet we took no chances. We treated each one as potentially lethal, until finally we had crossed nearly the entirety of the expansive room.

It had taken hours to traverse, as sometimes we needed to double back on ourselves to avoid a particularly complex system of wires, switches, and pitfalls. So it was with relief when the opposite wall finally came into view in the glow of our lanterns, the exit from this place a gaping black maw.

You stepped through the doorway first, light of foot and agile as always. I was never so nimble on my feet, and I couldn’t help but admire the beauty of your movements.

And then I was on the floor, convulsing, a terrible sharp pain crawling up my leg. There had been one final trap for the unwary, and I, like a fool, had let my guard down. The trap had reared up like a scorpion’s tale and stung me.

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