Whatever her fears, nothing untoward happens as we follow the elf into the tunnel, the darkness only ordinary shadows, the way narrow but not overly so and of the same hewn out stone as the rest of the place seems to be. I'm almost disappointed when nothing leaps at us, my tension having nowhere to go except to create a knotted pulsing at the back of my skull, a headache born of lack of action when my entire being believes it's necessary.
Vosh has to duck to enter, but he can move easily from side to side, taking up the last position while I step forward past Graldor and Blossom, past Damaris and to Fleur who seems withdrawn, anxious, both hands now clutched together before her, raised and pressed to her throat like she's choking on something she can't seem to comprehend or shake loose.
