earthwalking

“Precisely,” Evanna said, her voice crisp. She held out her hand to me.
I gritted my teeth and said, “We’re going to earthwalk?”
“If you please,” she said.
“I hate this,” I said. “No offense.” Then I took a deep breath and took her hand.
I can earthwalk. Technically. I mean, if I really, really, really wanted to, I could do it. Wizards can pull off almost anything other supernatural beings can do, if we want to work at it.
But why would I want to?
Evanna’s hand pulled me down and I sank into the ground as if it had suddenly become thick Jell-O. Dirt-flavored Jell-O. We began moving, and the ground passed through us in the most unsettling way imaginable. I could feel the earth grinding at every inch of my skin, as if I was thrashing my way through fine sand, and my clothes didn’t do a thing to stop the sensation. Worse, it gritted away at my eyelashes, forcing me to blink and hold my hand up over my eyes—which also did no good whatsoever.
Worst was the phantom sensation of earth in my mouth and my nose and tickling at my throat. Technically, I think she was using magic to slide our molecules around and through those of the ground around us. Practically, I was enjoying the experience of a slow and torturous sandblasting, including getting punched in the taste buds with overwhelming mineral sensations.
Seriously. It’s revolting.
We emerged from the earth into one of the residential corridors below the main building, which was presumably burning merrily somewhere above us. You couldn’t have guessed it. There was no smoke in the air, no sound of any fire, no leak of water from above.
I fought against the urge to spit as Evanna let go of my hand—and looked up at my grimace with amusement. “Mortals find it unpleasant, I know. Do you need a cup of water?”


Peace Talks Chapter 7, Page 59-60