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Summary
Looking only straight ahead, you continue your trek down what you’re gonna assume is a winding hallway. Towards what? Anyone’s guess is as good as yours. Alls you gotta know right now is that you’re hungry and tired, and that there has to be somewhere you can rest. Always is.
Even the stupid way the house seems to wax and wane around you, breathing in and out and out and in, seems less egregious than its tendency to emulate some frightfully familiar scents. (And every so often you come across a stray cinder block, or a shuriken or, or,
You turn away.
Kick one with your foot.)
