Under normal circumstances, navigating the green mist was no arduous task, but Mel was presently far from operating under normal conditions. In one hand he bore Kapo Kulus, whom he had dispatched mere minutes prior, and his vessel was forced to grapple with a burden of venom that escalated with every passing second.
His strides, which ought to have accelerated, were decelerating; as the hour to receive the mine's alternate visitors drew near, the sensation of panic came knocking at his door. This predicament, which would have posed zero consequence to him at any alternate juncture or locale, had now seized absolute priority.
