Allen's eyelids fluttered. The dim, bluish glow of the den filtered into his vision like moonlight through water. Everything felt too soft, too still… and too damp.
His body ached. Not the sharp, blinding pain from before, but a dull, lingering throb across his back and ribs. As if someone had taken a giant club wrapped in seaweed and used him as a drum.
He groaned softly, then winced as he tried to sit up.
"H-Hey…" he rasped, blinking at the shapes looming over him. "If this is a dream, I rate it like... a six out of ten. Weird lighting. Kinda smells like fish."
A cluster of faces stared down at him.
They weren't human.
Dark-scaled, long-snouted, and sharp-eyed—lizardmen. At least half a dozen, maybe more. All of them were watching him like he'd just grown a second head. Not with malice. Not quite with confusion either. More like… curiosity. Like a weird-colored fruit hanging off a tree they'd never seen before.
Allen cleared his throat.
