A cloaked figure stepped cautiously between the dank pools on the ground, taking care not to disturb anything hanging from the slimy walls or the root-patterned roof. The pattern of movement, swift and precise, would give a passing spider cause to believe that it, whatever it was, was both skilled and experienced in the art of sneaking and eavesdropping on certain secret conversations. But the spider did not care, for it was a spider, and spiders cannot eat little invaders of the deep places of the world, and it scrambled away up a hole in the roof. Nothing but the sound of tiny droplets striking chords on the makeshift drums of water filled the lonely cave.
No, wait. There’s another sound.
The low mumbling of voices began to reach the ears of the trespasser. The tone was of debate and about something highly important. Searching for any hint of where it might be coming from, the sneak felt the far wall of the deep, winding cave for a crack or scrape, or some other sign of a hidden door. Slender fingers crawled like a creepy-crawly, searching, and found something: a crack, smooth and straight, too perfect to be natural. The muffled noise continued on the other side. Ever so carefully, the nervous fingers slipped cautiously into the space and tweaked it gently open.
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