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Your eyes take in the light as misty haze dances in your peripheral vision. The mine is musty, yes, but far less so than the cramped interior you were stuck in just moments ago. The air is cooler, safer, whiter, and your affect is much lighter as you step out back into the halls of the mine. You appear to be much deeper in the mine system, putting you somewhere in jogging distance of Damien, and the tram you hope to catch.
In front of you, however, is a figure, who stands at a distance not too far to be unable to make out but not too near as to be immediately recognizable. As you blink your eyes- once, twice- and begin to adjust to the wearily lit interiors of the halls of the vast mine system, you recognize this person as none other than:
>Zacharie, cradling something in his hands.
>Dahlia, barking (ah! haha) orders into a walkie talkie.
