Ankyra Sound Nobody knows you now.

Mou crept along at a sluggish pace on a good day, and today was not one of those. His progress was so infrequent that the cave itself did not seem to give away any clues that he was present; the dust was hardly bothered, and not a single rock was kicked out of place. If anyone from the outside world were to delve in to this stygian nightmare they would have followed easily after a while—Mou was creeping, mostly dragging himself across the metamorphic platform and leaving a narrow trail of disturbance behind himself.

He was ignorant of the threat that loomed in the atrium of the cave; but he managed to slip down from the narrow ledge and in to the more spacious room without making too much of a fuss. Had he managed a good look at himself, he'd have seen the white of his bleached pelt was sullied by dim rust-like tones. What he did take notice of was the scent of dried blood mixed with the dust scent of the cave, and remembered the creature he'd found stranded on the land bridge.

There was no reason for him to think of the dying thing. The cave was host to other scents, other clues, and he should have noticed the overwhelming scent of the waiting behemoth as soon as he'd entered—but Mou had no memory of such creatures as bears, and certainly did not find anything amiss as he drifted like a lonely cloud in the dark.