Having been ready to leave, Pick turned towards the sound of a voice which after so long in silence had startled him. Another man, off in the distance and across the rise of an uneven ridge had called Pick's attention before he could retreat back to lower ground. For the time being, Pick's thoughts of this land and the map were moved to the back of his mind as he watched the old man hobble closer. As he neared, Pick had taken the time to put away his map, don his helmet, and pull his shovel from the earth then could only listen as the stranger began to speak. 

Pick nodded slowly at the mention of being lost, but what small hope that had given him began to fade as this clearly delusional man started to babble about some wandering murderer. Somewhat concerned, now not only for the man but practically everything, Pick opened his mouth to speak but the stranger turned away and motioned for Pick to follow as if he had agreed to do so.

"Um, I'm sorry?" were the first words that managed to find Pick's tongue as he rushed a few steps forward to catch up with the old man, an easy task to say the least. "Sir, you'd be right in guessing that I'm lost but I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Are you native to this region? I can't say I've ever been here before. I'm- how did I get here..." Pick had inquired, his words trailing off as earlier concerns began to plague him. "Sir, where are we?" Pick then asked, his tone slightly panicked as for once he began to think. He'd been underground for how long? How many times had he woken up with cold stone to his face and put back to sleep with hot teeth in his side? How? 

Pick addressed the man again, "Sir?" as his pace slowed to a stop, twisted and unhappy thoughts entering his mind. Suddenly everything he'd ignored before revealed itself to be as nonsensical as the map he'd been reading only a moment ago, and just like the map when he looked at things as a whole they made no sense. Pick's face noticeably grew paler, and he felt sick to his stomach as thoughts of the horrors he'd escaped from began to creep among his blurred mind. Again the pain in his ribs returned, in an effort to keep himself upright Pick drove his shovel into the earth to use as a support.