"Oh seeds!" Arms windmilled wildly. The world titled. He braced for impact.
Rodion darted—surprisingly quick for his stubby build—and flung himself beneath the falling prince. They collided in a soft oof; Rodion flattened into a cushioned pillow, absorbing the fall with springs and compressing gel packs.
Mikhailis lay sprawled, staring up at dripping rocks. "Thanks, Rodion," he wheezed. "Heroically defeating myself is truly an uncommon strategy."
Rodion's voice buzzed with dry reprimand.
They righted themselves, wiping stray slime strings off armor and fluff. Deeper into the cave the ceiling arched higher, black shadows flitting across stalactites. Something chirped. A musty gust carried the stink of damp feathers and guano.
Rodion's internal light dimmed.
