Page 38 of Bosse
Bosse paused and sniffed.That would be the leaking casks she said no one bothered with because the wine had gone bad.
Following that scent, he had to move more old trunks and garbage out of the way until he could see the casks covered in spider webs. Without his shifter vision, he wouldn’t have seen them at all this far from the stairs, where a dim light dusted the darkness.
He had to quietly drag that stack of kegs out of the way to find the tunnel access.
What if it wasn’t there?
Stop thinking and start doing.That had been his mantra since being captured.
He grabbed the side of the cask support structure and hoped it did not fall apart as he pulled it away from the wall. Even with his strength, this thing weighed a ton. No rotted wood. This place was as black as Krol’s heart.
Bosse remembered the matches she’d mentioned and dug them from the bag he’d placed on the ground. With the casks pulled three feet from the wall on this end, he struck a match and held it low to keep from blinding himself.
There was the outline of a three-by-four-foot board covered in thick dust. It had to be there for some reason.
He put out the light, kept one match he stuck behind his ear, and stuffed the box back in his bag. Pulling the casks farther away from the wall, he dropped to his knees and tugged around the board until the right side moved. Grunting, he dug his claws into the opening and pried the door open.
The metal hinges squeaked. Damn.
He dragged the bag to him and lunged inside the hole, scraping his back and arms. He managed to pull the door shut and fish the match from behind his ear to strike.
A torch half-covered with dirt lay next to where he sat. Would it even light?
He hurried to brush it off before his match light died.
The torch lit. He turned to make sure the door was closed but had no way to lock it. Even if he did, he had to leave the casks away from the wall.
You take too long to escape, Titan pointed out.
Bosse rolled his eyes.
He had to walk bent over for thirty steps. Then, thankfully, the tunnel opened wider and tall enough for him to stand if he kept his chin tucked into his chest. He moved quicker, gripping the cloth sack in one hand and the torch in his other.
Alifair had the mind of a tactician.
Without clothes, he would have no hope of passing through the countryside as a human.
It seemed he jogged forever, but it had probably been only fifteen minutes when the ground began dropping. Why would it descend?
Had he missed a turn?
With no time to question anything, he pushed ahead, his heart racing with excitement and no small amount of concern.
The path ended with no exit door.
