Grash's chest heaved heavily as he stared at Kong'gong, but there was no fear in his eyes. Bruises covered nearly every part of his body, and blood trickled from several shallow cuts, yet none of his injuries were serious enough to slow him down. His muscles still responded perfectly, his breathing remained steady enough, and his grip on his battle axe had not weakened.
It wasn't his injuries that concerned him. It was Kong'gong.
The old kobold remained suspended upside down from the ceiling, his claws embedded firmly into the stone as though gravity had simply ceased to matter. His emerald eyes glowed in the darkness, following Grash with the focus of a predator watching prey. Every movement Grash made was being observed, and the realization unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
How could someone who was supposedly blind suddenly see?
Grash wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and raised his head.
"How?" he asked, his chest continuing to rise and fall heavily.
