The two Nom children stared back. Now Zamy and Landric had seen a dwarf or two passing through their village over the short time they’d been alive, but they were unprepared for the sight their eyes provided. The traveling dwarves they had seen had tanned, leathery skin. In the dim light, these dwarves were pale, almost translucent, with faces often smeared black with oils and soot. The children were terrified. “Please sir,” Landric bemoaned. “Please don’t eat us!” “We don’t taste very good,” a fretful Zamy added, “and were super scrawny!” “Hey, I’m not scrawny, I’m strong,” Landric countered speaking only to his friend as he flexed his tiny muscles.…

When Zamy’s captor said it wouldn’t be too much longer, he was certainly using a different measure of time than the children were. A few minutes turned into an hour, and then two, of winding deeper into the caves. Landric was sure they were under the mountains now. They had to be with as long as they’d been moving. Eventually the tiny sounds that bounced off the close walls gave way to a deeper echo as the walls widened and the ceiling rose. No longer in a tunnel, the footsteps sounded more hollow and the turns had ceased. This reprieve lasted about as long as seconds at a Nom’s feast.…