T/W: Gore, Foul Language
Penn squeezed his eyes as shut as he was able to as the wish rushed past them. The pit of his stomach felt as if it was inside his throat, ready to pour out with any sort of jolt. He once had to jump out of a helicopter, and it left a bad taste in his mouth ever since.
"Open your eyes. I didn't bring you along to chicken out. Weren't you a soldier?" Nathan barked. Penn flinched in response. Nathan was right. He's supposed to watch from behind for any incoming attacks, so he pried his eyes open - and they snapped open in shock.
"Nine, eleven, and two o'clock!" Penn yelled out, his right hand darting to the back of his hip to pull his combat knife out. His hands were steady despite the constant adrenaline rushing through his body. The roots surged from the cliffside, bark cracking as they coiled like tendrils toward them at incredible speeds.
