Chapter 4: Fourth Fall

Had anyone been on the surface, at the right time and in the right area, I imagine they would have been treated to an interesting, if ultimately mundane sight. A portion of the seeming endless ocean of sand slowly beginning to crater, and then sink in, akin to water being sucked down a drain.

This would continue for several hours before it stopped. Then, it would start up again a few hours later, then stop again soon after that.

Things would continue in that manner for what must have been several days. The pit deepening, growing wider, ceasing to expand, and then beginning again. Deeper, and deeper, on and on, until finally, enough sand had been cleared away from the hole it was sinking into that no more could run over the rim and into it . . . at least unprompted.

After that, it was several hours more before I emerged.

'CRACK! . . . CRACK! . . . CRACK! . . . CRACK!'

The sound of my hands piercing into the stonework had long become familiar to me, and I was almost sad about it coming to an end. But, at the same time, I couldn't deny the undeniable rush of satisfaction that filled me as I grabbed unto the rim of the sand-pit.

With a powerful heave, I pulled myself up unto the side of the pit, planting my right foot on the edge and using that as a point of leverage to drag the rest of my body up. Immediately rolling unto my back, I displaced some sand, which nearly swept me back into the hole, but I manage to dig my fingers into the layer of stone underneath the sand, bringing myself to a stop before I could slide in deeper than my waist.

This time when I crawled out, I made sure to shove all the sand in my way aside, and always keep my fingers embedded into something, until I had a large enough stable area to stand in.

Finally I managed to crawl to my feet, and took in the surrounding area. Or as much of the surrounding area as I could over the edges of the sink hole I'd made.

'Ah. I still need to do some more climbing . . . ' I moaned to myself, looking a the pit from which every individual grain of sand I'd had to shift came from. Simply put, the sides were over six or seven times my height, and set at an . . . intimidating, angle. 'I'm going to slide right back down into the hole if I slip, aren't I? Is this how an ant feels when they fall into . . . what's an ant-lion?'

I shook my head, and prepared to try climbing up the walls of my sand pit.

In the end, it took me three tries to scale the sandy white walls of the crater. Two of those attempts ended with my flat on my back, at the very bottom after sliding all the way back down. I was sure the only reason I wasn't totally exhausted after all that climbing(not to mention the digging and several dozen times I'd blasted things) was because I'd eaten recently.

It seemed that waiting around in one place for prolonged periods of time turned one into a veritable magnet('what's a magnet?') for the shamblers. And I, feeling rather ravenous after all the hard work I'd done, hadn't been able to help but eat a few of them. By which I mean most of them. I'd only let the ones that had been smart enough to figure out "Oh, that guy's being eaten, maybe I should leave", go. Which, in the end, was only two of the total eleven that had found me.

Really, by the time I made it to the top of the sand wall, I was so hungry I was annoyed I hadn't chased those last two down. Not that eating two more things my size/larger than me would make me less hungry, the hunger barely ever even faded a little, I just wanted something to complain about.

But, in the end, none of that mattered. What mattered was, after several days of work, I was finally on the surface.

. . . It was boring.

Endless white hills as far as the eye could see, tops crested like waves. Not a plant, stone or structure to be seen. Like someone had taken a great storm at sea, frozen it in place, and then painted it all bone white.

The sky was starless, though the moon was larger than I could ever remember seeing it(though not by much), and there were no clouds to break up the monotony.

And of course, I still wasn't any closer to my destination, either. After all, I was searching for water, and there wasn't any water in deserts. Or at least I didn't think so. Therefor, I needed to get out of the desert before I found where I was going.

I looked around again, focusing on the dunes. Once I identified the tallest one, I immediately made my way over to it, slogging my way up to the top. Luckily, I'd gotten quite used to climbing through sand by this point, and I made it to the crest in only a few minutes, even with my feet sliding out from under me with every other step.

But, it seemed that even the highest peak in my immediate area wasn't enough to bring anything new, or at least anything worth noting, into view. Just more sand. Just to make sure, I crouched down, and exploded into a frog-hop(which, I am sure, looked quite comical).Still nothing.

I knew, of course, that there were areas with stones and some kind of spindly plant on the surface, but where those were? . . . I had no idea. I'd come up in a random area lacking landmarks, after all. And . . . something told me I'd never had a particularly strong sense of direction to begin with.

I sighed. There was nothing else to do, so, turning to face the moon, I set out in a straight line. It wasn't like I had any other ideas, and even if the moon moved, it wasn't like I had any other options, let alone better ones. So, follow the moon and hope to find an area with . . . more than just sand, it was.

I quickly found that trying to walk in total silence, the way I did in the caves, was a lost cause when walking on coarse sand. Not that that stopped me from trying for a pretty long time. But, soon enough I realized that my continued attempts were only making me decrease my walking pace so I could put more care into my foot placement.

In other words, I was slowing down considerably for no good reason. So, I gave up.

It wasn't like the sound of sand shifting under my feet was going to be a huge issue anyway. I somehow doubted sound would be a major factor in the desert the way it was in the caves. After all, the dunes would absorb the sound instead of just bouncing it around and amplifying it. No, on the surface, the most reliable sense was sight, not hearing.

. . . And I was wearing black. In a white desert. 'Maybe I should roll around in the sand again, make my robes all powdery again . . . ' I mused looking at the nearby dune. 'Then again, I suppose there isn't much point to trying to make it easier hide if I'm going to be moving, is there? After all, there's basically no wind, and I'm leaving a trail of footprints.'

I shook my head. There was little point in worrying about getting attacked. Anything that I could do to make myself safer would only improve my chances a few percent('part of a hundred') at best.

No, my best bet for avoiding danger, would likely be speed.

' . . . actually, how fast can I move?' I pondered. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually run full tilt, rather than just jogging, or speed-walking. The way it took me a bit to build up momentum didn't really held either. 'Well, no time like the present. Best to start testing my limits.'

I began to increase my pace slowly, going from one step ever to-count('two seconds?') to every one-count('second'), to two steps per second, to jogging, until, finally I was running. Running, meaning there was a defined period with every motion where my entire body was air-born, neither foot touching the ground.

Before I knew it, the scenery was rushing past me in a white blur, and I could feel my robs catching the wind. The feeling of my feet striking the ground rippled through my whole body like a heart-beat, and though I didn't feel my heart pounding, the entire rest of my body was suddenly thrumming with an energy I'd only ever felt before when I was in danger.

It was exhilarating.

Running was exhilarating.

'Why haven't I done this before?' I asked myself, the answer coming to mind immediately. It was to dangerous in the caverns, were I had no idea what might be around the next corner, so I never moved faster than I felt was safe. If I couldn't bring myself to a full stop in three or so steps, then it was to much of a risk.

But out here on the surface? What was there to worry about? I could see ahead of me for several hundred paces, even if one used my longer running stride for the calculation. The chances of getting ambushed were minimal, I was far more likely to run into an endurance predator. So, I might as well just keep running and enjoy myself, right?

I don't know how long I kept running for, but I know it was a long time. Long enough for me to loose count of how many steps I'd taken(after thirty five thousand six hundred and something . . . ), and for the dunes to start giving way to flatter ground with stones and trees(?) at least.

I kept running, and running, and running, searching for a river, or something until something popped out of the ground right in front of me. If I'd had even a single paces warning, I could have at least tried jumped over it, but as it was I ended up hooking my pointed foot on it, and tripping. Which of course, means I was sent flying forward ass over tea-kettle.

I hit the ground head first and rolled for several paces, leaving a deep ditch in my wake.

"GAAAAHH! Serves me right for sticking ma neck out!" The bump in my road, meanwhile, took it upon themselves to declare everything wrong with the situation. "What was I thinking, popping out of ma hidy hole the moment I feel someone movin around? Good way to get yourself eaten, that's what that is! Hey! Gillian! Wha the heck are you doin', running around the middle of nowhere like a damn fool? Are you trying to . . . Ah never-mind! You alright there?"

I blinked, still a bit dizzy from my wipe-out. Pulling myself into a sitting position I saw . . . a big, dark orange frog. Well, a massive orange frog, really. Had I been standing, it would have been half way up to my knee, and it was easily longer than my whole arm. It's head, like most of the things I ran into, was covered in a bone white mask, with two massive eye's peaking out to look at me.

The eyes were a much brighter orange than it's dull skin was, and they were . . . disturbingly . . . human . . . 'What's a human?'

"What?" The frog snapped, distracting me before I could follow through with that line of thought. "Did I mis-judge you? You look like one of the smart ones, but maybe A' was wrong. Maybe I've been out here to long and-"

"I . . . " I began cutting the frog off. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Ha!" the frog barked, pointing at me with one long, spindly finger. "I figured ya' could talk! The mask gave it away, ya see!"

"Uh, yes." I nodded. "I can talk. And my mask matters . . . why?" I tilted my head to the side curiously, even as I drew myself to my feet and channelled energy to my palm. This one seemed friendly, but I could only ever remember meeting two things that could talk, and one attacked me and the other had been planing to. I wasn't taking any chances.

"Well your a Gillian ain't ya? Only the talkin' ones get special masks. The rest of you's get that same dumb lookin' pointy nose."

"Gillian . . . " I tested how the word felt on my tongue. It was familiar. "Is that . . . the proper name for the . . . the tall black things that kept following me around? I called them Shamblers."

The frog stared at me for a moment. " . . . how new are you?"

"What?"

"How new are-how long have you been a Gillian?"

" . . . no idea?" I shrugged.

The frog blinked. "Right, my fault, dumb question. How bout this, when was the last time you spoke to someone?"

I thought for a moment. Did the cat count? . . . probably not. That left the lizard . . . "A long time ago? I have no . . . frame of reference."

"Alright, and what did they tell you?"

"Nothing?" I was quite confused by this point. "They just . . . cussed . . . cussed me out, after they're ambush attempt failed. Why?"

"Ok, and the time before that?"

"What?"

The frog sighed. "What did the one before that one talk to you about?"

It took me a moment before I figured out what he was asking. "There wasn't? You the second thing I ever remember talking to. Third to talk at all."

The frog blinked a couple of times, before putting one of their weirdly shaped hands over one eye. "Right, right." He muttered. "Just cause they can talk don't mean no-body's gone and taught them nothin yet. Well, guess that leaves things to old tongue-lasher eh? Someone taught me all of this, so now it's my turn to pass it on."

The frog like thing turned to face me, staring intensely. I stared back, the tension that had leaked out of me suddenly returning full force, and I found myself bracing for an attack. I didn't know what a frog could do to me, but it was better to be prepared just in case.

" . . . I ain't got no idea where to start." The frog sighed, shaking their broad head. Sitting down, he asked me. "Ok, what do you know about hollows, kid?"

" . . . Hollows?" The frog flinched backwards into a prat-fall, the sudden motion making me take a few steps back myself.

"You don't even know what-? How did you make it all the way to Gillian without- . . . Well, I guess you could have gotten caught up in a feeding frenzy on day one . . . " He sighed. "Not like power means jack when it comes to who gets the number 1 spot after all. So what do you know?"

I blinked in confusion, crouching a bit to get closer to the frogs level. "I . . . I've been lost since this started. What is going on here?"

The frog scoffed. "What's happenin' is I'm tryna help a some clueless idiot get their bearings, cuz some-body did the same fa me who knows 'ow long ago! So sit ya ass down an' take your lesson like a good little brat!"

Before I could even consider responding to that, a weight settled on my shoulders, and I suddenly felt myself getting pushed into the ground. It wasn't enough to knock me off my feet, but it wasn't pleasant. I tried to take a breath, the air feeling thick in my throat, and took a few staggered steps backwards, gritting my teeth. The presser grew stronger for a moment, before suddenly the pressure vanished.

"Huh." The frog had bulged one eye out farther than the other and was looking me over with it. "I didn't expect that. Most Gillians get knocked flat when I start flexing ma pressure. Even floored my fair share of Adjuchas. You must be a bit above average, huh?"

"Wh-what was that?" I gasped, taking deep breaths now that I could breath without choking on the air again. If it was possible to smile while wearing a mask, that's what the frog was doing.

"Lessen number one, beanpole. Spiritual pressure. Your soul can put out power, and if ya happen to be stronger than somebody else, you can literally weigh them down. I'm guessin this is the first time ya'v ever run into some-body tougher than you?"

I didn't say anything for a moment, glaring at the frog. Said amphibian rolled their big bulging eyes eyes.

"Ah, lay it off. Just be glad I'm not eating ya right now, yer not exactly strong enough to hurt me. Might as well just sit yet butt in the sand and accept ol' tounge-lashers wisdom, beanpole."

I glared for a moment longer. " . . . Tounge-Lasher . . . is that your name?"

The frog seemed to puff themselves up. "Ya got-it! Or, that's what A' go by now, a least. Don't quite remember what I was called back when I was human." 'There was that word again, what does.' "Not that i' matters. Now, what's . . . do you have a name?"

" . . . Yes."

"Oh? Then wa' is it?"

" . . . I don't remember."

"Beanpole it is!"

Despite my misgivings(and against a fair bit of my better judgment), I decided to trust the frog. If only cause his explanation about "spiritual pressure" seemed familiar and rang true. Which, of course, implied he was much stronger than I was, and could probably rip me apart as easily as sneezing.

I shook my head. I could remember that later. For the time being, I had to follow the frog. Which was made a bit harder by how they wouldn't shut up about themselves.

It seemed that the frog had a small cave nearby, where they'd spend their time when they weren't hunting. It seemed that . . . "Tounge-lasher", was a decently successful ambush predator, who operated by hiding in the sand where he was blocked from view on all sides by the dunes, and flaring his . . . reiatsu, at low levels. Basically, giving the false impression of a weaker "hollow" in distress, and luring in other "hollows" searching for food. Who he'd then eat himself.

Or at least, he would if he could swallow them whole. Apparently he didn't have any teeth and he didn't like having to blast his prey apart. Or at least that's what I assumed he meant when he said he "hates choppin' em up with cero's".

I was somewhat concerned that my size may have been the only reason he was so hospitable . . .

"A'right, 'ere we are." The frog declared as they came up to a large rocky hill with a large hole in it's side. "Not really a home, but shes good enough for me! Come on in!"

I watched as the frog hopped into the front entrance, following slowly behind them. Crouching in the entrance, one hand on the wall, I glanced inside to see . . . a perfectly normal, completely empty cave. "You . . . live here?" I asked, glancing around for any signs of habitation. The only thing of note were a bunch of older footprints near the back, all clearly the frogs.

"Yep! At least this is where I come back to when I'm tired of being out in the open!" The frog sounded cheerful. "Of course, that means I hardly ever use it, but that's just the way of things. We Adjuchas need to eat every once in a while, or else we'll revert into one of you Gillians."

I nodded slowly, before pausing. "Revert . . . that means, go back to . . . you were a Gillian to, right?"

The frog turned around to face me, somewhat awkward motion considering their body plan. "Glad you understand. Every Adjuchas was once a Gillian, and every Gillian used to be a normal hollow. You eat enough, and sooner or later, you'll turn into an Adjuchas too. Maybe even stronger than I am!"

"And . . . a hollow . . . that's what we are? Hollows?" I looked down at the dirt, something itching at the back of my mind. "What . . . is a hollow, exactly?"

The frog took a moment to think. "Well . . . if I had to find a way to put it . . . I'd say . . . a Hollow is a human soul . . . "

Something in me seemed to tighten, a pressure building up on the back of my head, and I felt every muscle in my body tense.

" . . . who's been consumed by some form of desire, leaving them feeling empty . . . "

A slitting head-ache shattered my mind, and I suddenly felt weak in the knees.

" . . . and turning them into some form of monster. Not that it's all bad, we get some-"

I grabbed my head and screamed.

AN: I'll be honest . . . I didn't have any plans on how positive or negative SI's first encounter on the surface would be, so I decided to roll a dice. High number for good, low number for bad. I rolled a 100 and . . . 98. So, really social Adjuchas go!