There was the sound of stone moving against stone, the dull crack as rock gave way to pressure and broke as was necessary, the scrape of dust as living tendrils of the stuff flowed into a central position between Handy and the door. The dark rocks moved by their own across the floor before lifting up and clashing into eachother and the flowing storm of dust, the green stones lit up as they were carried by small whirlwinds and hurled at the gathering heap of stone. Handy took several steps back in surprise.