The torches were already lit when they arrived back to their chamber. Vox closed the door and Zan climbed up to his bed. He had no idea what time of day it was, and only had a notion of how long they'd been there by how strongly his stomach craved. They had eaten once and his hunger was at bay, so he guessed it wasn't too long.

"You don't need to help me Vox," Zan said.

"I was only trying to defend you," she replied.

"I can defend myself." He rolled over on the bed, his eyes watering.

Salan sat upright with his eyes still closed. "How did you come by that...you know?"

"You mean scar," Zan said, his voice quivering slightly.

"Well, yes. If you don't mind me asking?" Salan said.

"I do mind." Zan ran his fingers across it while facing the wall. A tear meandered down, trying to find the shortest path between the crevices on his skin.

The room fell silent for hours, until the flames on the torches danced no longer. Salan began snoring, and Vox and Arg were offering little sound. Zan had too much on his mind for sleep. He felt like his chance had ebbed away a little during the day, and whenever his thoughts drifted towards the fate of his sister, he felt sick. He didn't know what chances lay at the end of this route, but it sounded like a pretty exclusive club, and one he needed to be a part of. The words on the invitation were always at the forefront of his mind – the chance of a better life for him and his sister. He couldn't let that go.

He sat upright on his bed, and peered over the edge. Vox and Arg were both snoozing and it was obvious that Salan was. He climbed down and tried the door. To his surprise it opened and he walked into the outside passage, closing the door behind him so gently that it took nearly a minute.

Every stride forward was carefully placed; every footstep pressed gently down in a flowing motion to prevent any echo. The torches in the passages still burned, and he reached up and lifted four of them out of their metal holders. He continued while holding the flame at arm's length.

Several minutes later, the door to the Great Cavern stood before him and he slipped through, closing it with his free hand behind him.

There was an eerie atmosphere seeing the chamber in the dark, and completely devoid of life and noise. The flame lit his path as he stepped carefully down the slope, but it was only enough to see about ten or so metres ahead.

He scanned the floor, and halted at the first marker point. Several bows lay in a pile, and a quiver lay next to it, and three more a little further back. They varied from mostly full to only a quarter full.

He placed a torch down at roughly ten metre intervals from the marker point to the target board before picking up one of the bows.

A succession of arrows hit the floor, littering the area around the target. Zan's arm ached from the days strain, and his bow wobbled ever more quickly when he pulled the string back to anchor. He had to release quickly or forfeit the accuracy, not that he was hitting the target anyway.

A rumble emanated from deeper within the cavern and rolled through the air like a wave. It reached Zan, blowing the flames to their dimmest point before they grew again.

He looked around and tried to quieten his breath. There was nothing. Not a sound or a sight, not within the narrow confines of the firelight.

He returned to the task at hand, volleying another thirty down towards the board. The exertion began to tell as he started panting, and his firing arm dangled by his side for a few minutes while he sat on the floor. He wasn't aware how long he'd been there for, but his eyes had started to droop.

A shake of his head woke him up and he stood, picking up another arrow. The nock was fixed and the bowstring pulled back but he let the tension release without firing. Then again he tried, pulling the string back further than he ever had previously, while grimacing. He aimed slightly lower and released the arrow, which was flung forward and caught the bottom of the board with a thud.

Zan let out a breath of excitement and jumped in the air while clenching his fist.

Finally!

He looked around, becoming acutely aware once more of his surroundings. The shadows were haunting and once the bow was placed on the floor where it was found, he gathered up the torches before heading back towards the door.

A noise struck him, like the sound of shuffling feet close by. He turned and held the torches out in front, moving them sharply to one side then the other. As they were held to his right, the outline of a black figure stooped and he stepped forward in its direction. But even waving the torch in front of him didn't reveal anything and whatever it was, it was gone.

Deciding that he wished to spend no more time out of the relative safety of his dorm, he hastily left the room, and placed the torches back in their brackets.

He slept much easier that night.