Forgetting where he was, Finn bumped his head on the ceiling. It wasn't particularly painful, more of an irritating sensation that permeated his entire consciousness.
After regaining some composure, he noticed a large backpack nearby, which was slightly smaller than the boy but could easily fit his body inside. Pulling it closer, Finn untied the usual knots holding the backpack's flap, and then opened it.
There was nothing interesting in the backpack except for a small pouch that reeked of stench. He didn't rush to open it, first delving deeper into the backpack. Inside, he also found some medical supplies: old packaging for gauze, a jar half-filled with alcohol, and bandages... Or rather, what was left of them: the packaging was inside, but the bandages themselves were gone.
There was also a small knife with a single-sided blade and a handle made of tied rope, and some tools in the form of a small pickaxe and shovel.
After finishing his inspection of the backpack's contents, Finn took out the foul-smelling bag and pulled back the elastic band holding the pouch closed. Inside lay ears of various kinds, ranging from human ears to inside-out, fur-covered or hairy ears.
Wrinkling his nose at the sight and smell, he tightened the pouch and tucked it as deep as possible into the backpack, so that the smell wouldn't spread, or at least reach his nose to a lesser extent.
Closing the backpack, Finn slowly sank onto the cold stone, stretching out along the wall. Even in this position, he had to be careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling. His eyes closed on their own, and he tried to focus on his breathing, ignoring the dull pain throbbing in the back of his head. Each inhale echoed unpleasantly inside his head.
After some time, his fingers involuntarily reached for the spot where he had been hit. Gently feeling the back of his head, he discovered a sticky patch of dried blood and a torn wound, the edges of which stung unpleasantly to the touch. The cut was about the length of his little finger, but its depth seemed insignificant.
His gaze fell on the medical supplies in the backpack. It would be good to treat the wound, but the mere thought of rummaging through that bag again made him feel nauseous. The image of the pouch with its contents persistently surfaced in his mind, making his stomach clench.
Absolute darkness would have reigned in the cave pocket if not for the tulwar, whose curved blade emitted a soft golden glow, reminiscent of sunset reflections. This light, warm and alive, cast bizarre shadows on the uneven walls of the shelter. Finn tried to keep his mind blank, allowing his thoughts to dissolve without lingering. Any attempt to focus on something specific brought on a sharp pain, as if needles were piercing his brain.
Time flowed slowly, dripping like water in the depths of the cave. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of falling drops echoed, creating a peculiar rhythm. This monotonous sound gradually began to soothe, distracting him from the pain and nausea.
The coolness of the stone seeped through his clothes, causing his body to shiver slightly. This sensation helped him stay conscious, preventing him from sinking completely into darkness. Finn understood that he needed to move on, but every movement required immense effort.
Slowly opening his eyes, he looked towards the barely visible passage through which he had entered this pocket of rock. In the dim glow of the sword, the entrance appeared as a blurred spot, almost merging with the wall, making this place an ideal hiding spot. But he couldn't stay here.
Gathering his remaining strength, Finn pulled the backpack towards him. Despite its impressive size, the weight turned out to be quite manageable. Throwing it over his back and tightening the straps, he began to crawl cautiously on all fours. His knees trembled, but they held.
The narrow crawl to the outside was the only way out. His entire being resisted the thought of staying in this cave pocket, saturated with the smell of decay and the metallic taste of blood.
Every movement was difficult, but Finn stubbornly crawled towards the exit, leaning his hands on the uneven floor. The golden glow of the sword illuminated the path, casting long shadows from the rock protrusions. Getting out of this shelter was the only thing that mattered now; everything else could wait.
Squeezing through the narrow crawl, Finn tried to move cautiously, carefully feeling every section of the path ahead. The golden light of the tulwar, secured to his backpack, cast bizarre shadows, turning every protrusion into a potential danger. Several times his palms brushed against sharp rock edges, forcing him to change his route.
The backpack on his back snagged on protrusions, and sometimes he had to twist to free it. The cold rock under his hands was damp, covered in places with some slimy substance. Finn tried not to think about what it might be, focusing only on moving forward.
A sharp edge of a suddenly protruding rock scratched his shoulder, tearing the fabric. Freezing for a moment, he carefully moved away, trying to find another path. He had to stop often, exploring the space ahead, searching for a safer route among the chaotically scattered stone teeth.
Gradually, the passage began to widen. At first, the change was barely noticeable – it simply became easier to maneuver between obstacles. Then, he could rise to his knees without risking hitting his head on the ceiling. The light of the sword now illuminated a larger area, allowing him to plan his movements better.
Another turn led him to a place where the cave vaults suddenly went upwards. Finn slowly stood up, straightening to his full height for the first time in a long time. His muscles, tired from crawling for so long, responded with a painful tension. He leaned against the wall, giving his body time to adjust to the new position.
The cave here had turned into a spacious corridor, wide enough to walk without touching the walls. The ceiling was lost somewhere in the darkness, beyond the reach of the tulwar's light. The air seemed fresher, as if there was an exit to the surface somewhere ahead. Veins of some light mineral snaked along the walls, dimly shimmering in the reflected light of the sword.
Finn took a few unsteady steps, getting used to the vertical position again. Every movement echoed, reflecting off the walls and creating the illusion that someone was following him. He tried to ignore these sounds, focusing on maintaining his balance.
The backpack, which had seemed so heavy while crawling, now felt almost weightless. The ability to walk normally, without pressing himself to the ground, gave him strength. Even the pain in the back of his head seemed to have subsided a little, although this might have been simply due to his attention shifting to other sensations.
The corridor continued to wind, but it was now significantly easier to walk. The walls were covered in places with strange patterns, resembling ancient writings or random scratches. In some places, stone icicles hung from the ceiling, creating intricate shadows in the light of the sword.