Day #3 – Amber Averay
Pumping like a bellows, my lungs were desperate for fresh air but every inhalation drew ash and soot; every exhalation was a tempest of violent coughs and eye-watering sputters.
I paused a moment, light in hand, and forced myself to shallow, gasped breaths while attempting to see…anything. The darkness that was made thicker by the drifting ash-falls made me feel claustrophobic, and I resumed shuffling forward, panic pushing me to rush, caution forcing me to take care.
I swayed on my feet, rough tufts of grass sprouting over the dry ground, and I eyed them suspiciously – they were a trip-hazard, and it was only by a miracle I’d not already twisted my ankle or busted a knee on those, or the roots stabbing up from the hard soil.
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