WOW: Curl. A hunt deep underground goes horribly wrong. Choose your own brother.

Disclaimer: don't own, just wish.


The first sign of trouble is a splintering crunch that echoes through the derelict mineshaft.

Dropping to his knees, he lets out a choking gasp, curling up in anticipation as the wooden strut above him crumples in terrible, ripping slow-motion.

Knees drawn up to chest, he throws his arms over his head as a thunderous black barrage rains down, blinding him in swirling dust and battering him into powerless submission.

The eventual end of the onslaught leaves him helplessly entombed, the suffocating mass of the earth pressing down on him.

Suddenly fingers grip his exposed hand. The rockfall is weightless.

Hope's here.