It is dark here, quiet. Only the occasional muffled call of those upon the outside lend any reality to the darkness. A world apart yet within.
A splash, so small but resoundingly loud in the silence. Water, dripping somewhere. Filling ink black pools upon the mossy rocks. Stones once mighty, now worn and crumbled with the sinuous streams of liquid blackness.
Silence returns, for only a moment. The delicate whisper of fur upon stone. A shadow within shadows, darkening the farthest corner. Far from the reaches of those outside of this small cavern of night. Curled tight upon the edge of the deepest midnight pool.
He stirs.
The bare shift of form, a feather soft murmur of a voice, long disused. "W-where..." A jerk of movement, spark of light as ebony spined horns strike stone.
The rush of breath, a gasp of desperation. He stills.
Water, dripping somewhere...
The sleeper is waking...
