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5 days.
How long it had been since his last meal.
He’d been rationing before then, hoping his rations would last him to the end of the cave. But days stretched with his pack growing lighter and the end seeming no closer, there was no choice but to push on. The hunger had left quick enough, replaced with an empty pit and eventually a weight that he wore like a second coat, leaking into every bone, every fiber. Every hour without calorie made his body heavier.
3 minutes.
How long it had been since he’d moved. The effort to lift his foot was too much, to lean forward into that next step. Time only marked with every dull beat of a heart that refused to just die, not here. No amount of straining his senses revealed anything but the empty underdark that he’d been seeing for the better part of a week. He’d followed one of the old trade routes, abandoned as the safety of the cavern was undercut by its length and lack of resources. There were no predators, sure, but there wasn’t anything. A broken wheel, or a lack of rations, was a death sentence.
“I didn’t trudge in this place for a week just to die from hunger of all things.” Basch growled to himself, trying to reignite that flame of hope that drove him this far. All he found was long extinguished ash.
The next movement forward was him falling to the ground.
Forcing the next step when even just standing made his head spin wasn’t the wisest idea, but the alternative was giving up, something he didn't make a habit of.
He crawled for hours, even as his body became scraped and bruised, as his hands grew slick with blood and he willed them to at least keep enough of a grip to hold the next rock. One tug, that’s all he had to do. One yank wasn’t so hard, then another, then another. He wasn’t crawling to the exit, he was just crawling one more foot.
“Useless work.” He whispered hysterically. It was impossible to keep track of how close he was, but he’d see the exit from miles away, what if he wasn’t even close? That promise of purpose, to be something more- to be free. He couldn’t resist tugging the rope and trying, even though it was impossible to ever reach such a light.
Light. What a waste.
Another shuffle forward.
Born and raised in the underdark he should have been used to a lack of light. Shouldn’t have held on so tightly when it presented itself. A hope that things might one day be better, all he had to do was fight for it. To keep going. To see a death sentence but reach for the hope on the other side.
Just one more tug.
There really had only been two ways this would end. He gets out, or he dies trying. Things get better, or they stop entirely.
Just a little further.
He knew this, he knew this. So why was the cold grasp of death such a surprise, those tendrils of fatigue that spelled his fate even as he thrashed and scratched and screamed, as he gave everything to have that chance. Did that alone not prove his commitment? Was he so far in the darkness that the fates couldn’t see his attempts and offer their aid? Just a single sign to pull himself one step further. Or was the numb that settled over his hands and feet all he had to look forward to. He at least hoped his body provided for the soil, doing more in death than he ever had the chance to accomplish in life.
Another pull-
His hand reached for its next perch, instead meeting something soft and wet. He pushed himself up, eyes meeting the unmistakable sight of meat. Of food. Fresh enough to not even smell of rot. Without conscious effort, or even getting his knife to cut pieces, he tore into it with his teeth and basked in the feeling on his tongue. Finally able to bite, to chew, to eat.
It tasted awful, caked in dirt and cold as.. well a corpse. But the iron that washed down his throat was sweeter than Ambrose poured from the gods themselves.
After he’d eaten enough to no longer be delirious with hunger, he began to uncover the full body, wanting to determine what was edible and what was not.
Then he saw its face. Vacant eyes under the blanket of a hood that had been watching him devour its body this entire time.
Not it.
Them.
He retched, vomit seeping through dirty fingers. The man was recognizable still, only slightly sunken. Did Basch recognize the face? He forced his eyes away, it would be worse if he did.
His breaths came in shallow, looking at the red spilled before him. He tried to feel remorse, to not want more still. The shock numbed more than the hunger ever could, but desperation burned hot within him, and he didn't make a habit of giving up.
Maybe it should’ve taken more consideration, only a man so insane could commit an act so vile. But Basch already knew he was insane. He had to be to attempt an escape from The Underdark. If this body could aid his journey instead of rotting here then he wouldn’t waste the chance. He’d bring purpose to this fool, and himself.
He finished his meal, then stuffed some in his bag for the journey.
When he finally saw the light at the end, it was beautiful. Too weak to run, he staggered on unsteady feet.
So bright, so painful, the fruit of his efforts cast upon him in its warm glow. A future he couldn’t see, but that warmed every part of him. He’d not soon forget what got him here, no matter how much he tried to put it behind himself. Those edges of morbid curiosity wasn't one he was ready to confront just yet. For now all he wanted was to stay in the light.
“The sun.” Basch whispered softly, basking in its embrace. The next step forward wasn’t as difficult as the last.