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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