“Let’s rest,” said Sandy, lobbing her sack onto the crest of a broad sand dune. She hung her legs off the edge and took a long swig from her flask.

Cray meticulously undid the straps along his chest then lowered his heavy duffel beside hers. He flopped – this last stretch had been a gruelling six hours up the rocky coast.

She handed him the flask, wiped the sweat from her eyes and tightened her pony tail. It sharpened her avian features. When he’d told her that, she’d cursed him – Cray suspected she didn’t know avian was a compliment.

“The spirello cave should be around here,” she offered.
“Spirello? Pons said it was just a cave.”
“Ye, Pons said to leave out the spirello part ’til we got here.”
“Why, what is it?”
She pointed into the distance, “That.”

Cray glanced. A gargantuan quicksand pit spun violently, bubbling occasionally.

“You’re telling me someone lives down there?”
“Not just someone – someone with glyth, right down that hatch.”

A tiny metal hatch was embedded within the pit. Cray gulped.