Knowing your time is limited, you dash across the damp, frayed landscape of the sandal towards one of the colossal digits of the pandaren that is holding your refuge in place while they dilegently finish adjusting their strap. Even with the constant quaking and deafening sounds of fabric sliding against fabric, you manage to stay true to your path, avoiding the pitfalls of frayed fibers as you sprint towards your only salvation. Eventually, you reach the solitary finger and, taking no time to really appreciate it's enormity at your miniscule size, you throw yourself against it and grab what handfuls of thick black fur you can to secure yourself. The last thing you need right now is to slip off and end up below those planetary paws again.
Almost as soon as you grab hold, you are filled with an intensive sense of vertigo as, the pandaren, finished with their arduous task. stands up, bringing their hand and you along with it. You can only hold on for dear life as the hand heads towards...
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