Moving quietly, Ark left the path he had come from and hid between two bushes to the side. They were dense enough to cover him, but still allowed him a view of the path. Suddenly he felt silly. Storm had the first watch, and had probably followed him to check if he was alright. That would explain the noises: Storm was great with fire and lightning, but stealth? Ark grinned to himself—he’d teach him a lesson about that. Keeping his eyes on the path, he took a step backward to get better cover and readied himself for a pounce.
The growl didn’t come from the path ahead. It was almost next to him, coming from just across the path. Ark’s head snapped towards that direction, and he saw yellow eyes staring at him. Something was hiding in the vegetation, and it wasn’t a charr. It was massive. His instincts kicked in and he flung himself backward to evade the pounce, but instead the ground gave way, and he fell.
The world spun around him. He roared as his head slammed against rock and he felt a sharp pain along his right leg, and then his fall stopped as his claws found something to hold on to—he was clinging to a thick vine that had grown across a chasm. Far above he could see the two eyes watching him for a moment, and then they disappeared. Below, he could see more vines, sharp rocks, and further down: nothing but darkness.