A CREATURE NOT MADE TO SLINK. massive, a predator's slow gait, clawed forelimbs scraping grooves into the steel-reinforced concrete, it progressed through the narrow tunnels guided only by its keen nose, by the infrared it can practically taste on the pits dented above its scaled maw. the webbed flares of its hindlimbs and it’s whiplike tail trail uncarefully in the damp, near fetid puddles of condensation ( sweat ? tears ? the blood of the earth ? ), an odd set of tracks for an errant fool to follow. a wyvern had to eat. it's far enough away now, it thinks, silvered eyes cocking back for a moment, to the expanse travelled, and indeed, it could no longer feel the heat of masses gathering—all that remained was the heat within itself. the caverns it finds itself confronted with are not nearly large enough to stretch out in, and so it coils, clinging to the darkest parts of the area, head pointed towards the way it came. waiting… whoever wandered this far away from the safety of numbers had it coming, really.
