«What time is it in your head?»
"It's hot," Dynatós coughed, following behind Mr. Valen as they avoided patches of lava flowing through cracks in the wall.
The smell was unbearable: rotten eggs, choking fumes, and sudden hot mist shooting from the walls.
It was like a high-pressure cooker, and yet both men endured, as if their bodies had adapted to such temperatures.
After filling Dynatós' bowl with precious minerals, they ventured deeper into the cave where they found nothing, and yet they went deeper still.
Mr. Valen looked around, his face expressionless but with a hint of amazement. "You can't feel that?" he asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks as he turned to Dynatós.
Upon being asked this question, Dynatós was confused. "Feel what? The heat?" He asked wondering why the man before him had suddenly stopped moving.
