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You've run for hours, crawling and squeezing through passages, spurred on every time that low rumble echoes off the stone walls of the caverns.

Finally, you arrive at a camp deep in the heart of the caves. There's a fire going. You feel a wave of relief wash over you. At last, people.

That is, until you spot little red eyes, watching you from the shadows in the tents. And a hand. A skeletal hand, just poking out from the edge of the tent in the center.

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