When one can fly, people tend to want things from you; Little things, usually. It makes sense - A trip that might take hours for them would only eat up minutes of your day. And Ryla was happy to help people - She made no apologies for being the creepy fucker she was, but she enjoyed getting to show folks she wasn't so bad - and earn a little spending money to keep from going completely hungry.

It was normally pretty easy, even if it did add up. A message sent out to a relative, a few supplies out to a marooned caravan, checking up on a silent loved one, an expedition into an enormous mine to try and rescue some disappeared workers...


... She really needed to learn how to say 'no' to people.

It wasn't difficult for a creature like her - she'd never been claustrophobic, and her fluid form made even the tightest tunnels a trivial passage. The rough, rugged terrain slid harmlessly over her rubbery, yet durable flesh and her keen vision illuminated the realm of bats and eyeless insects. Even in pitch darkness, the faint glow of her own eyes provided more than enough light to see the caverns in detail.

She had no destination in mind, simply ready to stumble upon the lost miners - or whatever had taken them. Bandits would sometimes use these caves to coordinate themselves and conduct hit-and-run raids on the town.

Bandits didn't scare Ryla, but as she descended deeper and deeper into the entrails of her homeland, she fought to beat back that instinctual fear. Humans were surface creatures, and her mind was still human. Even as she stepped casually through the roomy tunnels, her body tensed, ready for the moment something would inevitably jump out at her.

The constant chittering of the bats certainly helped. It was background noise to keep her imagination from getting away from her.

So when the bats fell silent and the darkness gave way to a faint blue light, Ryla's heart nearly stopped.