Ankyra Sound in the womb before the world began

the smell of rainfall finds its way into the grotto; wet earth snaking thru the tunnels of scarab's too big haunt. he stretches as he awakens, snuffling his face into the deer pelt he used as bedding — old, tattered and musty smelling. he loves it despite these flaws. sleepily, he peers around rolling onto his back — sneezes once — and then flips himself right again, pushing to his paws. the exit to the topside is a familiar worn path and the deathweaver walks it with ease; could walk it with his eyes closed.

the grasses are slick with recent rainfall, the sky overcast but he exits the grotto at a lull in the rain. hunger drives him outward in the search — though he does not have to venture long. a fat groundhog snuffles thru the earth, head rising as it nibbles the sweet grasses and scarab makes quick — if not messy work — of the hunt; teeth tearing into flesh and fat with ease as he eats to sate his hunger.