PREVIEW
... /p>
Not mine.
Someone's gnawing something about five feet from my face. Loudly. Wetly. Like they're trying to assert dominance by way of mandible acoustics.
I crack open one eye.
It's one of the newcomers—the twitchy one who hasn't drawn a single symbol since arriving. He's crouched over a stash of insect chunks. Not the pitcrawler from earlier. Something newer. Smaller. Smells less like poison and more like feet.
He eats fast. Like someone's going to take it f ...
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