Blissful Oblivion
Well, obviously that was the smart thing to do. I didn't exactly have a whole lot of other options here. He rose slowly with me, and removed his hand from my mouth, but his other hand remained firmly grasping mine, as if to ensure I wouldn't run. Or in petrified fear.
But what kind of thing could inspire fear in a man like that?
As we jogged quietly towards the nearest rock face, I let my eyes roam.
He wore a tight gray sweater jacket over a white T-shirt, and an intricate cross with a red gem in the center hung from his neck. He wore black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. It was all extremely tight. It nicely outlined his abs and... other muscles.
I looked up, and scrutinized his face. He had a nice square jaw, rough with dark stubble, and semi-long hair (About to the ears, and the nape of his neck) swept down in dark, mussy waves. His eyes, so dark and fathomless, squinted worriedly into the distance.
He stopped.
"Wait. It's right here."
I looked around, and saw nothing. We were still many yards from the nearest edge of the canyon.
He released my hand, stooped down, and pressed his hand to the ground. Like in some Indiana Jones movie, a section of the rock depressed, and with a grinding clunk, two stone doors revealed a cellar-sized opening descending into blackness.
"Ummm," I whispered, "are you sure that's safe?"
He cracked his knuckles. "It's safer than back there. Your choice. Them, or this," he said, gesturing at the opening.
But what kind of thing could inspire fear in a man like that?
As we jogged quietly towards the nearest rock face, I let my eyes roam.
He wore a tight gray sweater jacket over a white T-shirt, and an intricate cross with a red gem in the center hung from his neck. He wore black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. It was all extremely tight. It nicely outlined his abs and... other muscles.
I looked up, and scrutinized his face. He had a nice square jaw, rough with dark stubble, and semi-long hair (About to the ears, and the nape of his neck) swept down in dark, mussy waves. His eyes, so dark and fathomless, squinted worriedly into the distance.
He stopped.
"Wait. It's right here."
I looked around, and saw nothing. We were still many yards from the nearest edge of the canyon.
He released my hand, stooped down, and pressed his hand to the ground. Like in some Indiana Jones movie, a section of the rock depressed, and with a grinding clunk, two stone doors revealed a cellar-sized opening descending into blackness.
"Ummm," I whispered, "are you sure that's safe?"
He cracked his knuckles. "It's safer than back there. Your choice. Them, or this," he said, gesturing at the opening.