Chapter 25: First Blood, Part 4

The bandit bolted, and Sule increased his pace, lungs and muscles burning. He gave one last burst as he got close, lunging and tackling the bastard to the ground. They went down so hard for a moment he could not move or breath.

Just as he regained both abilities, he heard the ominous, unexpected sound of wood creaking—cracking—breaking—

They fell down and down, so sudden and quickly that Sule could only let go of the bandit to scrabble uselessly at dirt and rock. The stop came as suddenly as the fall, accompanied by a sickening, cracking sound and a flood of overwhelming pain.

He threw up as the pain got the better of him, then rested his head against—something—and tried to just focus on his breathing and getting past the pain. His arm was broken, badly. That meant he could not climb out. Sule swallowed and fought panic. Focus. He looked up and saw the opening through which they had fallen, circular and very far away.