28
Of all the dungeons I’d been in, this one was the creepiest by far. The narrow stairwell wound downward, and the trap door above closed with an echoing thunk that sounded like it sealed our doom.
“You’re sure we’ll be able to get out?” I asked Morena in hushed tones. My whisper bounced off the stone and seemed to tumble into the darkness below. We relied solely on our non-sight senses to lead the way. Morena’s scent was manly with the palate of modern “unscented” personal care products with a little sweat and Scotch thrown in. She’d never had a romantic partner as far as I knew, and I wondered—not for the first time—whether she would choose a man or woman as a lover.
“Of course I know how to get out,” she said. “If it will make you feel better, there’s a torch at the bottom of the st
