Damn, that's good trail mix. Better than he remembers. As good as he can possibly imagine trail mix tasting. It doesn't make him less hungry, though.
Strangely, it's better lit in here than it was outside. The walls of the mouth are vivid pink and red, the clear pathway down the esophagus easy to see.
As soon as he steps up to it, there's an enormous gulp, all around him, and he's swallowed. There's nothing he can do. One moment he's walking carefully forward, and the next he's sliding helplessly, rushing along, squeezed down by that powerful contraction of muscle, slick fluid making it impossible to find purchase.
He lands with a thump in a dark, cavernous space, on a flagstone floor. Before him are three large archways. Between him and the archways sits a familiar figure.
It's Kabru...? He is almost cross-legged, one knee up with the foot planted on the floor. There's a slightly dangerous light in his blue eyes. Also, there's a big ol' hickey on his neck and he is not wearing a shirt.
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Strangely, it's better lit in here than it was outside. The walls of the mouth are vivid pink and red, the clear pathway down the esophagus easy to see.
As soon as he steps up to it, there's an enormous gulp, all around him, and he's swallowed. There's nothing he can do. One moment he's walking carefully forward, and the next he's sliding helplessly, rushing along, squeezed down by that powerful contraction of muscle, slick fluid making it impossible to find purchase.
As he's dragged along, a memory washes over him.
He lands with a thump in a dark, cavernous space, on a flagstone floor. Before him are three large archways. Between him and the archways sits a familiar figure.
It's Kabru...? He is almost cross-legged, one knee up with the foot planted on the floor. There's a slightly dangerous light in his blue eyes. Also, there's a big ol' hickey on his neck and he is not wearing a shirt.
He doesn't speak.