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Kroaicho doesn't respond. His form fades into the shadows, leaving me alone in the cave with nothing but the crackling fire and the faint hum of glowing mushrooms. Well, that went well.

I exhale sharply, rubbing a hand across my face. My breath comes out ragged, and I realize I'm shaking.

That's what I get for being vicious. My eyes sting, a dull ache starting at the back of my skull. I try to blink the feeling away, but it lingers, an ever-present weight pressing down on me. Fear and pain, I think, though it feels strange to put a name to it. I've been holding so much in. For a moment, I feel it welling up, like a dam ready to burst.

Five and ninety-five, that shattered part of my brain starts to chant.Cannot be reformed.

I lose myself for long moments, before I smell the smoke, the coughing bringing me out of my daze of repeated sayings. A quick glance up confirms that I forgot about a very important part of building a fire. A chimney.

My hunger takes precedence though, and I snatch the meat off of the fire. Hissing as it burns my mouth, then groaning when the flavor is terrible.

I choke as much down as I can, determined to not let this place starve me to death.

Then I gather myself to figure out the smoke issue, but before I can get up the ground beneath my feet shudders.

The fire flickers as the stone floor trembles, a low rumble echoing through the cavern walls. I freeze, my heart pounding as the tremor grows stronger, and then—CRACK.

The ground splits open with a jagged, thunderous tear, and something bursts through the surface, sending chunks of rock flying in all directions. I scramble backward, my hands clawing at the ground as I stare at the thing that's emerged.

It's massive. Easily twice my height, and covered in thick, slimy scales that glisten in the low light. Its body is long and serpentine, with dozens of legs—more like claws—that dig into the stone beneath it. Its head is elongated, with a wide, tooth-filled maw that stretches unnervingly far when it opens its mouth. Two eyes, a sickly green, lock onto me, studying me with an eerie, calculating stare.

My heart races in my chest as I freeze, barely daring to breathe. The creature doesn't move at first, just hovers there, its eyes narrowing as it watches me. I can hear the low hiss it emits, like steam escaping from a pressure valve, and the scent of sulfur fills the air.

This is bad. But I don't move. Maybe if I stay perfectly still, it won't see me as a threat. Maybe it'll just go back to wherever the hell it came from.

The creature tilts its head, then moves closer, its claws scraping the stone with each step. The tension builds in my chest, my lungs screaming for air, but I still don't move. I don't even blink.

And then, without warning, the creature lunges.

I dive to the side, just barely avoiding the snapping jaws as they slam shut where I'd been standing moments before. My heart is hammering now, the adrenaline surging through my veins as I scramble to my feet. I can feel the heat from the creature's breath, rancid and hot, as it rears back for another strike.

I'm not going to outrun this thing. It's too fast, too strong. My eyes dart around the cave, searching for something—anything—that can help me. My gaze lands on Kroaicho's pile of treasures, glittering in the low firelight. The hoard!

Without thinking, I sprint toward the pile, throwing myself into the chaotic mess of rocks and trinkets. My body crashes into the mound, sending pieces clattering everywhere as I burrow deep into the treasure, pulling as much of it over me as I can for cover.

I hear the creature's growl behind me, followed by the sound of claws scraping over the stone. It's searching for me, sniffing at the air, but I keep my breathing shallow, curling up as tightly as possible beneath the treasures.

It’s no good, though. It wasn’t fooled

"Kroaicho!" I scream, my voice hoarse. "KROAICHO!"

There's no response. Of course, there isn't. The stupid alien left, and now I'm stuck here with this… thing, buried in a pile of useless trinkets.

I push up slightly and start throwing anything I can grab in as many directions as possible. It seems to work, the creature whips around to each new sound, looking more and more confused.

Then I carefully lay back down.

The creature's claws scrape closer, and I bite my lip, willing myself not to scream again. I can hear it sniffing, growling, its hot breath so close I can almost feel it. It's circling the hoard, searching for a weak spot. For me.

I press deeper into the treasures, my hands brushing against something sharp—one of Kroaicho's supposedly valuable pieces of scrap, I’m sure. I grab it instinctively, clutching it to my chest like some kind of talisman.

The creature lets out another growl, and then—silence.

For a moment, I think maybe it's gone, that I've somehow managed to hide well enough. But then I hear the faintest sound—like a crackle. Like the fire…

The fire.

It must have wandered too close to the flames, distracted by the thing I had started. My pulse quickens as I realize this might be my only chance. Slowly, painfully, I shift beneath the hoard, trying to reach the edge where I can see the flickering light. If I can just get the creature to move closer to the fire, maybe…