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After his ‘encouragement’ of the Elven brothers and the Lossoth concerning their need to visit the healer, Rôg joined Luindal’s group in one of the smaller caverns on the northern end of the big cave. ‘Might as well get in on the action,’ he said to the captain, as he lit the torch he’d brought and bent down close to the floor with it. It was back breaking, dirty work - all hunched over, eyes glued to the surface of the floor, hands prying through whatever silt had mounded up around objects on the floor. Rôg inched along, on his knees for the most part, brand in one hand, knife in the other for prying at likely objects.
After a bit, Luindal motioned him over. ‘I’m worried that we might spend too much time in here and the tide start to come in,’ the captain said. ‘I’ll have my little group move back out to the main cavern. Can you contact the other groups and tell them to head back there, too? Once we’ve all gathered together and all are accounted for, we can head back to the ship and make plans for the morrow.’
With a great sigh of relief, and a small rub to his back to ease the cramped muscles, Rôg handed the captain his torch and changed back to a little bat. Soon he was zipping in and out of the tunnels, bringing the message to the search groups . . .
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