From the burbling sound that came from the rushing creaks, Elliot and the rest trekked their way to the supposed passageway. Only with damp rocks, forming trails along the stream, glinted along with the water as their basis of vision.
Step after step, little did they know, the crickets died out all of a sudden. The winds started to howl with fair warning through their ears.
Elliot looked up, and it was a barely lit cave carved in with the perfect arching stone walls. Through these dim lights, in certain angles, it reflected green and dark grey hues. It was a location that had withstood the test of time; without any proper furbishing, it remained dormant and indomitable.
The place was overwhelmed with its musky and mossy aroma, swirling in and out of the path.
[Let's go.] Anasthasia commenced with a slight clack on her blue ballerina flats; it was no different from trickling water.
