It was the first battle for the group, and the situation doesn't look good.
Underneath the avalanche of screeches, the ground trembled—hundreds of writhing, misshapen beasts swarmed the uneven rock formations, their long, rock tails lashed and whipped as they scrambled over one another in a frantic pursuit.
Clawed limbs scrabbed against stone—their ascent eerily efficient, too fast, too relentless.
Above, the escapees pressed on.
Despite their ragged breath and feet slipping against the uneven surface, they continued to climb.
Every second counted, but the swarm below showed no sign of slowing down.
All of the mice were coming, approaching dangerously fast.
Glancing downward, Hannah willed her amber hair into a thick whip and lashed it to the rock formation under her—cracking the surface and sending pieces of rock raining down on the mice. But even then, that only bought barely five seconds.
Rumble!
