Robert A.J. Strife

She dipped her head low to avoid the low-hanging oaken beams. It was times like this that made Caeda miss the sweet kiss of the sun. Sooty dust caked the air like a wool blanket, thick and choking, permeating the lower levels from years of neglect. The chest should be around here somewhere. Coughing, she flicked her eyes about, waving her waning torch. I never should've taken this job, she thought