CHAPTER 11
After just five minutes in the Lower Rind, Brocc already felt the side effects of the lack of sunlight. It made him jittery and ready to draw his daggers at anything that moved.
He glanced around the park where he had fallen. There was a faint smell of herbs—a scent that reminded him of the vegetable kingdom.
A fine mist of dust and debris rained down on him. He reached up and shook the dust out of his crown, and his broccoli shadow danced across the ground as he wiped the back of his head.
The debris had come from the hole he had fallen through. More dust spilled down, and he sidestepped as it covered the grass. Clumps of wood and concrete slammed onto the grass, barely missing him.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said.
He took shelter under a rusting slide and glanced
