The tunnels under that defiled garden wheel were pitch-dark and fouled with sullage.
I lost my footing and we sloshed helplessly into cataracts of sleetch and putrescence that carried us leagues away from our attackers.
We scrabbled for purchase or handhold to slow our descent into the immeasurable depths, to little avail.
We slid further and further into that muculent ductwork, bits of flotsam devoured by a stygian monstrosity.
It felt like untold miles of malignant vasculature were crushing out my instinct to survive, overwhelming me with dread.
My wits caved in and I became desperate, mewling and clawing at the lining of those guts to escape.
I found something sharp in my hand and tore through those thick membranes, discharging the girl and I onto the floor of an abysmal chamber.
Exhausted beyond reason, I fell into unconsciousness.