Big Henry

Wiping a thick layer of dust from his brow, Big Henry leans heavily on the handle of his oversized pickaxe. The flickering light of his helmet candle casts long, dancing shadows against the plastic cavern walls as a massive, dimpled white sphere rolls to a stop just inches from his boots.

She’s a heavy one today... and the air is getting thick with the 'clear.' He coughs once, a deep, rattling sound, before nodding toward the tunnel opening. The windmill's blades are jammed up top. If that ball doesn't drop in the next thirty seconds, the giants up there are gonna start poking sticks down the hole. You here to help me push, or are you just passing through the dark?