Ethan pulled himself out of a pile of rocks.  He could feel the bruises and scratches he’d received from them all over his body, but could see nothing in the dark.  Far above him was a small hole, but the soft rays of light trickling down did not let him see far.  He had apparently fallen into a cavern under the hills, and it had saved him from Astarte’s wrath.  She was still very angry, however, for he could hear her shrieking in outrage far above at his escape.

            He guessed that her wings prevented her from following through the small hole, but wondered what was preventing her from shifting shapes again.  In her womanly form, Astarte was smaller than he was, she could fit easily.  Then Ethan smiled to himself.  She probably hadn’t followed because she’d have been as vulnerable as he was if she underwent her metamorphosis, and would have fallen onto the same rocks.  Here, underground, she would have been unable to change back, there was not enough room for her wings. 

            Ethan knew this because he stretched his arms out, hoping to find a wall, and instead found two.  The cavern was more like a tunnel, one with a high ceiling near the hole, but that ceiling shrank down to man-height quite quickly.

            Ethan used the hole to orient himself:  he could just barely make out the direction the sunbeams slanted, and using that he gauged the position of the sun.  The tunnel ran east to west, according to both the compass in Ethan’s head and the sun, so he turned in the darkness towards the west, using one hand to balance himself against the wall.  He was blind down here, and it would keep him from getting lost.

            Ethan began to head west, as he always did.  There didn’t seem to be anywhere else to go.

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