The Night Shepherd's Cave

With your candle lit, the room is illuminated. Everything falls into place: while the floor and walls still look hurriedly carved, it no longer feels like a deserted space. Seating, bedding, and bundles of possessions, previously hidden by the shadows, are now visible, and you can see that this is not a deserted spare room or cave but a humble residence.

You can also see the figure whom you heard shuffling in the darkness.

He's male, but to call him human would be to call into question the goodness of all humanity, that it could produce progeny like this. Is he a demon? you ask yourself as you feel your mind unravel. Your mind unsticks as you realise you've been staring at him for several seconds and that his ugliness is doing your mental health great harm. Instead you lock your gaze on the ground, but the memory of his face haunts you, makes your mind further fragment with brutal speed.

You realise you are screaming, and that you have been for a little while already. At first you believe it is from anguish, but as agony explodes through your shoulder you realise you've collapsed and are now hugging your knees to your chest, curled up into foetal position with sheer horror of what you have witnessed. It - he - says something but you can't hear what it is.

The candle, which you dropped, sputters out, plunging you both into darkness. That is the last coherent thought you have before your mind unspools beyond repair.

Oh dear. It seems the Night Shepherd will have to clear another carcass from his lair. Such a lonely task.


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