Ambrose Drak
Ambrose wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. He's never been nervous around the opposite sex before. So, why now? Just the sight of this lovely creature sets his heart to thumping in his chest like a herd of stampeding wild mustangs.
"What makes you think we're safe in here?" Mercy inches through the narrow passage. "Where's the light coming from?" Tipping her head, she stares at the ceiling.
"Because where I'm taking you," he glances at her, "no one else knows about it." He turns a corner. "Well, except for Braylin." The echo of his voice drowns out her steps. "Oh, and the light overhead is caused by the worms. Well, the Waitomo larva to be more precise."
"What do you mean?"
"Watch this." He slides a hand across the smooth bedrock wall. Several glowing bugs fly away.
"Those don't look like worms to me."