Word Count: 359
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His own worried voice seemed to reverberate between the walls of the little cave, and every sound was magnified until they were screaming at his ears. Even little drops of water, or the sounds of the ocean somewhere in the deep now troubled him greatly, and as he noticed more and more details in these sounds, his worry grew. Conor felt it too; Emwe could tell by his brother's voice. His ears flew upwards immediately and searched for the sound that Conor had heard. Was it a monster? Was it a dragon?! If it was, it was probably really angry at him for coming into its home without asking. Haven had said that dragons belched fire; that would be uncomfortable. His mind trailed along the path of monsters and horrible ways to die, and in his mind the situation escalated into serious peril. Again, and always, the boy was ever trusting of his brother, and did not know of deceit. He was not capable of it himself, and so it did not exist. Emwe whimpered weakly. Now, a sensation he knew all too well grabbed hold of his throat and squeezed as his silver eyes misinterpreted the little light they found. The walls! They were shrinking! They moved in the darkness; he didn't doubt it for a second. He stood still, now, unable to see his brother, but he could smell and hear him not far behind. Emwe stood with his tail firmly tucked against his tummy, ears flat in discomfort. They would die here, and it was all his fault! And his throat was all tight and he couldn't even warn Conor. He took some hesitating steps backwards as he desperately studied the walls around him, and then glanced back. The entrance was easy to see, with all the sunlight flowing into the mouth of the cave. Suddenly and without warning, the young male bounded towards that light and past his brother with a yelp. That cave didn't have any treasures in it, no, no! It had only death and bad things. Once outside, the male could breathe again, but his stance remained the same. Now, he was ashamed.