Though I feel neither thirst, hunger nor fatigue the day, such as it is seems to be ending, or is it just getting darker? It is impossible to tell.

The threat I feel, the ominous oppressive sense of an evil presence thickens, like gruel thickening in the pot.

Brandubh's body stumbles occasionally now as though it is finally giving up hope of reunion with his spirit.

Exhausted and yet untired we reach a rise.

In a valley before us is our destination, surely nothing else could be so hideous

The walls seem to crawl, unable to keep or maintain their shape. Sere rank things pulsate, twisting, reaching, noisome and unhealthy.

There is no life, sweet and pure except where we stand. The creatures I have glimpsed from the corners of my eyes now emerge to stand before us, then, as their ranks swell to surround us.

Pale, twisted mockeries of life, bulbous or thin by turns, some eyeless, or with eyes in the wrong places. I see limbs malformed, bent oddly or missing. They wait.

Then, he comes. Agog.