Instead he moves to face the wall and tepid trickle of water, ruefully gnawing at the crust of his last black-seed cake. Trying to remember how many days had receded since his descent into the Shallows.
He regrets not pocketing the locket-clock in his haste. In the Below, where neither sun, nor moon, nor star give meaning to a travelers progress, a time-piece is useful, if not indispensable.
Perhaps I might fetch you a rat, or a little mouse, instead of that...
It said with a tender wryness, unseen as he peered at the wrinkled and pebbly stone-work. The voice retreating into the distance on the softness of bare footfalls.
Fragment 1 / Fragment 2 / Fragment 3 / Fragment 4 / Fragment 5 / Fragment 6