Keirst sat down, still crying. He didn't know what to do. If he climbed down, he was dead. If he climbed up, he was dead. If he stayed right where he was, he was dead. He felt his stomach growl and he remembered he hadn't eaten in awhile. He didn't have any food and there appeared to be none in this cave. He felt a chilling breeze hit him. He came to a realization. The world was a cold place, you could have everything one moment and the next it could all be taken away from you. He wiped his eyes. The world was cold, so why should he be any different. He changed upon realizing that. He was no longer the happy boy he had once been. Now he was but a shell of a man, broken, defeated, lost... He stood up. He pulled out his sword, examined it for a moment, then stabbed straight at the side of the cave. It hit with a lound clang, and he had used enough force to actually penetrate the rough rock. He let go of his sword and looked at it as it hung there, halfway in the wall. He pulled it out and put it back in it's scabbard. He lay down and decided he should get some sleep, after all, he might be there for awhile.