The pitter, then patter. It’s the familiar but distant sound of her feet. They echo off the walls, traveling down the winding tunnels to inform me of her coming. She’s a ways off yet… I think she has just jumped down into the gulley outside my niche. A break in the normal pattern of drip, drip, dripping draws me alert, and I raise my head towards her.

Her breath steadies, then she gently says, “Goliath, how are you?” This is the name she gave me.

Her warm embrace finds me for a moment. I click happily in response. I find her voice soothing after listening to the empty tones of my home. I lift my palm up slowly, so I don’t startle her, and my spirits lift when she pats it.

She giggles, a beautiful jingling of tones, and says, “Today’s the day, right? C’mon. Let’s go to the pool.”

These ‘days’ and ‘nights’ she speaks of are strange. No such things exist here in my home. There are many things she speaks of that are strange, foreign, from whence she comes on the surface. Sunlight. Biting cold and searing heat. Drought. Famine. Pestilence. Mistrust and thievery. Cities. Farms. Family and community. Regardless of the stories of suffering of her kin, I enjoy her company. I’ve been alone for much of my time here.

I turn around and begin leading her beyond my normal room. I move deliberately slower so she can keep up. Every so often, I subconsciously send out a high pitch click, so my mind can register obstacles. I continue to pad down a narrowing passage where I can smell the mildew sliming up and down the walls. Somewhere to my right and left, more trickles of water run down to the tips of ceiling spires, fall, then catch themselves on floor spires. The puddle that forms beside and around this floor spires will be teeming with life, no matter how small. We have come to the face of a ledge, one too tall for her to climb.

“Hey, will you give me a lift?” she asks. She brushes the hair on my arm. I nod, then offer my palm up again, careful not to jab forward. I don’t want to hurt her. A moment later, she has hunkered into a corner of my flesh, and so I gently raise her up to be level with the ledge. She crawls off, but I hesitate to follow. My ears perk up suddenly. The hunger pangs in my stomach alerts me again. I smell food.

“Oh? Where are you going? Will you be back soon?” She asks, a small tremble in her voice.

I nod in reply. I pad back the way we came. There it is again. A flapping of a small fleshy wing. It bounces off the walls to my left. Oh? The crevice is too narrow for all of me, but I can slip my arm through. Quickly, I try to detect where this creature is through the gap. It’s heartbeat betrays its location, an unknowing calmness. I tense myself, lying in wait. Flap flap flap flap. Squeak. In one swift motion, I thrust my hand forward, and one long claw spears it! Squeak! Then it’s heartbeat fades. I bring my prey back to me, open my long jaws, salivating, and consumes it all in one bite. My hunger recedes quickly. Soon, I return to her and join her on the ledge.

For one so small, she is especially fearless. She travels her way into my home more and more often, and has never shrieked at me, like other of her kin have done. I am thankful that she has never approached me this way, because I fear what I would do if my hearing were upset. If I am hungry or scared, then I am not well in control of my actions. Instincts take over. But, the clear ringing of her voice calms me.

I continue guiding her, as promised, to the pool. Though I am not quite sure why she seems so eager when water can be found in many streams and trickles in my home. Why here?

“This place is amazing! Thank you for showing me where my new home will be.” She says, her cheery tones echoing off the wide cavern walls. “Do you think my family will be able to fit down here? All 35 of them?”

What? What does she mean? She cannot live here. There is not enough food for many more of her people. I shake my head.

“What? I’m hurt that you feel this way…” Her voice lowers, and something ominous creeps into it. “Well then, if you won’t share your precious waters, then we’ll just have to take it for ourselves. Because this spring is what we’ve been craving, what we’ve been dying over for decades!” There is a dangerous snarl to her voice now. I don’t like how it’s changed her sweet melodies.

I shake my head again, more vigorously, long hairs waving with me. This won’t work. My home is my home. It can’t sustain anyone else. She is only a visitor. I bare my fangs, and give her a warning growl. The low, rolling tones fill the entire cavern.

Suddenly, the shearing sound of metal on metal rings out from her, and I know she has drawn her weapon. Her kin have come down here with long claws before. This time, regrettably, is no different. A twisting feeing fills my gut. Betrayal. A sour taste fills my mouth, and I growl again, the rumbles quieted by the large cavern. I begin clicking my teeth angrily.

Stomp. Her foot hitting the cave floor. Stomp. Another step closer. Whoosh. Her claw rises higher, preparing to attack. Squelch. My claws dig deep into her body, and protrude from the other side. Clank. She drops her claw.

Her breath sounds ragged now. Then it stops completely, and her body goes limp. I throw her body into the wall. My home will claim her now.

Never again will I trust a human. Like all those who have passed into my home, they are devious, violent scavengers who cannot understand the ways of the my home of limestone.