Thoren slammed heavily into the ground.
The impact drove the air from his lungs and sent shockwaves of pain radiating through every bone in his body.
It was a wet, sickening thud, the sound of flesh and bone meeting stone after a fall that should have killed him.
His ribs cracked.
His spine compressed and his vision went white, then red, then black at the edges.
A scream tore from his throat.
It was simply pain given voice, raw and primal, echoing through the darkness of the trench. Blood bubbled on his lips. His limbs sprawled at unnatural angles. For a long, terrible moment, he could not move.
Could not breathe and could not think.
But he did not have time to care about the pain coursing through his body.
He struggled to rise to his feet.
Every inch of him screamed in protest. His muscles tore and his joints ground against each other.
