They were leaving that gray-white hell. The dusty yellow they had grown sick of over the past few weeks had never looked so lovely.
The ominous color of weathered bone gradually faded away. That was undoubtedly a good sign, but the length of the transitional stretch still exceeded William's expectations.
In his memory, the descent had taken only a short while before the gray-white covered the entire cave wall. Now, the return was taking far longer than the journey down, and stubborn, jagged patches of white were still clearly visible.
The irregular spots spread upward as if soaking into the rock, seemingly trying to assimilate it and expand their reach. He even suspected that, in some way beyond the naked eye's ability to perceive, the gray-white was rising—and that one day it would reach the surface.
It brought to mind a spreading patch of vitiligo, eating away at the surrounding healthy skin. This land was already terminally ill; who knew when the sickness would spread from within to the surface?
Even though he was certain he would never live to see that day, the thought sent a chill through him and deepened his fear of the land.
He quickened his pace and stayed close to Kraft. To save their torches, they had decided to keep only one lit at a time. It was Kraft's turn to light the way, and he wasn't in the best shape. He didn't have much energy left to make sure William was keeping up.
When the white had almost vanished from sight, they reached another dead end where the rock folds tangled together.
"Wait. Let me rest for a bit." Kraft handed the torch to William, then sat against a vertically ridged rock face, shifting uncomfortably.
He pressed his knuckles against his temple, easing the