Round 955

The ancient stone beneath her hands groans ominously as Merrin scrambles forward, every instinct screaming at her to run. But Varikka is down, injured, and the thing that's after them—whatever it is—moves with a terrifying purpose. The tunnel walls are sweating dust now, shifting with each heavy thud of pursuit behind them.

"V..." Her voice trails off as she reaches her friend, hands already moving to support the larger woman's weight. This isn't going to be easy. Varikka's full mass is a lot for Merrin's wiry frame to manage, especially when every muscle is screaming from exhaustion and the persistent ache in her skull from the noxious gas they inhaled earlier.

"Can you put any weight on it?" she asks, already knowing the answer. The ankle is swollen, probably sprained at least, maybe worse. But they can't stay here. The walls are crying stone tears now, and something massive is still coming.

Merrin's fingers find purchase in Varikka's armor, her other hand wrapping around a thick belt strap. She tugs, trying to redistribute the weight so it's not all on her own back. The leverage is shit—she's practically hugging Varikka's thigh now—but it's something.

"Come on," she mutters through gritted teeth. "We need to move before this whole place comes down."

The ground shifts again, more violently this time. A section of the ceiling above them crumbles, sending a cascade of rubble into the water below. Merrin flinches, her grip tightening involuntarily.

"Fuck," she breathes, not daring to look back at what's pursuing them. "We're so fucked."