Vince Matthews delicately opened his topaz eyes. His entire body was wrought with agonizing pain, but he shrugged off the horrific sensation long enough to roll onto his battered back. A ragged cough escaped his round lips as he looked up at the sparkling night sky. He had not fallen far, for he could identify the gulcho s opening just a few yards above his position.



Blood trickled from the abrasion upon his forehead and the deep liquid ran down his right temple to his rich brown locks, dripping from the rust-colored waves onto the dry dirt. His head throbbed unbearably. He blindly felt about the arid ground beneath him in hopes of inspecting his location; the searing pain within his skull made it difficult for him to lucidly assess the situation at hand and he struggled to focus on survival. Deep in his shaken stomach, a sickening feeling surged from the bottom of the swirling organ to his burning esophagus. He urgently writhed unto his front, preparing for the possibility of vomiting, but when he impulsively twisted his body, the fact that he was perched upon a thin cliff ledge slipped his hazy mind.



His beaten physique inadvertently leapt from his precarious outcropping and his golden eyes widened both with fear and with aggravation as he plummeted toward the depths of the ravine. With a nauseating thud, he fell flat upon his backside; the impact forced his eyelids to seal tightly due to the excruciating pain the descent exerted upon his already aching body. His mind drifted off into sub consciousness.