that point on it became clear. She was going to have to climb her way out using her breakfast utensils. She was sure this wasn’t covered in any handbook, maybe it was something she should think about writing if it worked. Survival with a knife and fork by Kile Veller.
She shifted her weight to the fork and reaching up as high as she could with the butter knife, tried to wedge it into another grout line. It took a few tries, and only when she was sure of how sturdy it was, would she pulled herself up on the knife and repeated the process with the fork. The steepness of the slope was a hindrance, but it was better than trying to go straight up, and the muck took away any problems of pulling herself along.
If she had though walking through the slime was slow going, this means of travel was worse. It took her the better part of an hour to navigate up the corridor that she had just walked in five minutes, by the time she reached the base of the door she was covered from head to foot with the foul smelling mess, and her arms were screaming at her to just let go. It was a thought that had crossed her mind more than once. How easy would it have been if she just let go and slid down into the pit. She was sure the pit wasn’t too deep. Six, Seven foot at the most, they were trying to detain her, not kill her, but that would have been the easy way out, and she was all for not taking the easy way out.
Kile struggled hand over hand until she was able to look up at the door that leaned over her, the handle of which was right over her head. There was only one way to reach it, and only once chance.
She tested the knife and fork, making sure they could hold her weight. She then pulled herself up, placing one foot on the knife and fork. With the last of her strength she pushed off, leaping up toward the door handle and grabbing it with both hands, the knife slipped out of its groove and went skittering down the corridor to disappear over the edge. She was going to miss that butter knife. Kile hung there for a moment, her hands, slick from the muck, were starting to slip. She flicked the latch on the handle, but the door remained closed.
Searching for a solid foot hold, she had to find something she could use to reposition her weight, she found it when she felt the fork still wedged into the floor under her foot. It wasn’t nearly as sturdy as the knife but it was enough that she could push off it and throw what little weight she had at the door. The latch gave and the door swung open and Kile pulled herself into the next room to collapse. She laid there for a few moments trying to catch her breath and rest her arms. She wasn’t sliding so there was no need to be moving just yet. She glanced back through the open door to see what she already knew she would see. The corridor was as flat and as true as it had been when she had first entered through the far door, which was still open. The room was back to normal, as it had always been, except for the bent fork that was still stuck in the floor.
***~~~***
5
Kile was still holding onto the small ebony box, she hadn’t lost it and hadn’t broken it, not yet anyway. It was too small to hold anything of any great value, and what importance could it hold to be entrusted to a cadet. Actually, not even a cadet, not yet… maybe not ever. She was starting to have second thoughts of whether this was all a good idea or not, she was beginning to wonder if she had made a mistake. Did she really have what it takes to be a Hunter? Those lingering doubts were still pounding away at her resolve. She was too far into it now to just quit. If the fates had conspired against her then there was nothing she could do about it, but if she failed, it wouldn’t be because she quit.
She turned the box over in her hands and shook it, but it remained silent. Whatever was in there was either wedge in there really tight, or the box was empty. She was betting on empty. It only made
She shifted her weight to the fork and reaching up as high as she could with the butter knife, tried to wedge it into another grout line. It took a few tries, and only when she was sure of how sturdy it was, would she pulled herself up on the knife and repeated the process with the fork. The steepness of the slope was a hindrance, but it was better than trying to go straight up, and the muck took away any problems of pulling herself along.
If she had though walking through the slime was slow going, this means of travel was worse. It took her the better part of an hour to navigate up the corridor that she had just walked in five minutes, by the time she reached the base of the door she was covered from head to foot with the foul smelling mess, and her arms were screaming at her to just let go. It was a thought that had crossed her mind more than once. How easy would it have been if she just let go and slid down into the pit. She was sure the pit wasn’t too deep. Six, Seven foot at the most, they were trying to detain her, not kill her, but that would have been the easy way out, and she was all for not taking the easy way out.
Kile struggled hand over hand until she was able to look up at the door that leaned over her, the handle of which was right over her head. There was only one way to reach it, and only once chance.
She tested the knife and fork, making sure they could hold her weight. She then pulled herself up, placing one foot on the knife and fork. With the last of her strength she pushed off, leaping up toward the door handle and grabbing it with both hands, the knife slipped out of its groove and went skittering down the corridor to disappear over the edge. She was going to miss that butter knife. Kile hung there for a moment, her hands, slick from the muck, were starting to slip. She flicked the latch on the handle, but the door remained closed.
Searching for a solid foot hold, she had to find something she could use to reposition her weight, she found it when she felt the fork still wedged into the floor under her foot. It wasn’t nearly as sturdy as the knife but it was enough that she could push off it and throw what little weight she had at the door. The latch gave and the door swung open and Kile pulled herself into the next room to collapse. She laid there for a few moments trying to catch her breath and rest her arms. She wasn’t sliding so there was no need to be moving just yet. She glanced back through the open door to see what she already knew she would see. The corridor was as flat and as true as it had been when she had first entered through the far door, which was still open. The room was back to normal, as it had always been, except for the bent fork that was still stuck in the floor.
***~~~***
5
Kile was still holding onto the small ebony box, she hadn’t lost it and hadn’t broken it, not yet anyway. It was too small to hold anything of any great value, and what importance could it hold to be entrusted to a cadet. Actually, not even a cadet, not yet… maybe not ever. She was starting to have second thoughts of whether this was all a good idea or not, she was beginning to wonder if she had made a mistake. Did she really have what it takes to be a Hunter? Those lingering doubts were still pounding away at her resolve. She was too far into it now to just quit. If the fates had conspired against her then there was nothing she could do about it, but if she failed, it wouldn’t be because she quit.
She turned the box over in her hands and shook it, but it remained silent. Whatever was in there was either wedge in there really tight, or the box was empty. She was betting on empty. It only made
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