“What was that?” came John’s voice somewhere being him, alarmed. His voice carried through the tunnel like a terrible shrieking beast rousing from its lair. Mark couldn’t see his face, but he knew that John was not pleased.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just dropped my stuff, that’s all.”
John grunted. The others remained silent.
Mark stooped down and retrieved the obsidian necklaces hastily. He’d hoped they weren’t damaged. Then he hung those remaining seven around his neck. While he was still at it, he heard a faint hiss, barely audible, coming from somewhere ahead.