The Dinosaur-Unicorn-Mouse thing gazed my way with scathing eyes of flickering ember, then lazily shifted its attention back to guzzling down on more of my loot.

It munched and devoured the medieval-looking armor as if it was nothing less than a thin-crusted New York pizza empowered by a scent of hunger one could only acquire when falling out of a fever-induced nightmare of post-apocalyptic famine.

Or having mainly eaten rice cakes for two weeks, like me.

The intermittent crunching and screeching of the meal grated on me. My frontal cortex throbbed with the promise of an oncoming headache. And yet, I was pleased. The Dumdum may have been busy eating my loot, but at least it didn’t pay much attention to me.

Relieved would without doubt be a better description of my state of mind, yet as a strong believer in celebrating small victories, I forced on a smile as slowly moved the point of my right foot behind me, and shifting my weight, took a step away from the Dumdum. Oblivious to my painfully slow retreat it started cleaning its maw with its tongues. Tongues coming out of its neck.

You’d think a monster of the labyrinth would prefer human meat. It does. Unfortunately, while Dumdums were discerning in sustenance intake, eating only loot, they were alarmingly unselective in their choices for procreation partners.

And this Dumdum certainly doesn’t seem like a gentle lover. 

With another step back, and then another, I removed myself from its field of vision, turned around, and rushed behind the jagged rock shadowing the cavern’s exit.

I had no doubt the Dumdum could change its mind and come for me at any moment, but on some instinctual level, I chose to disavow object permanency. If I couldn’t see it, it most certainly couldn’t see me.

Yep. It can’t see me. I’m safe. Right.

Denial as a coping mechanism has grown to be my faith while in the Labyrinth, although when it came to its practice, my capabilities left much to be desired. My faith went beyond dumb luck, though. I didn’t name these creatures Dumdums just because of the initials for Dinosaur-Unicorn-Mouse.. Dumdums had a reliably single-minded streak to their nature, and I doubted this one would care about me at all as long as it got the loot.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

For a long time, I just sat there, my back against the rock, my legs gathered to me. I looked down, hugging my knees. Apparently, I’ve been rocking back and forth. These last couple of weeks threw me out of balance. I believed I’ve grown to know myself as a person and found my own internal balance. I suppose falling into the Labyrinth wasn’t something my mental health has been ready for.

Being all alone, disconnected from my support network, and living under constant stress. I felt like I should have been able to handle this situation, and found myself unhappy with breaking down. Then, I chided myself. ‘I am stronger than this’ is a great motto, but from my experience with myself, dismissing my own feelings could lead down the rabbit hole of self-pity.

Time enough for self-analysis later, though.

The crunching sound stopped with a belch. If the past couple of weeks could be taken as an indication, having had its fill, the Dumdum would now fall asleep and I could sneak back to basecamp.

I rocked forward onto my legs, using momentum to push me up a bit. Catching the rock behind me with my back, I took in a deep breath.

Dammit. I really wanted a weapon right now.

All weapons I had access to came from loot, and carrying loot would have drawn the Dumdums to me. I’ve been doing my morning gathering, pulling on the living tomato-like plants that filled the cavern. It wasn’t fun, but it was necessary. They’d sting like poison ivy and cut me like thorns on a rose. More importantly, they’d drop loot. I had no other name for the materialization of daggers and coins out of thin air once a tomato was picked.

More importantly, once every few dozen tomatoes, something much more vital dropped. Bread, fruit, and even once a bowl of soup. It tasted like chicken.

Whatever controlled the loot must have rolled the dice and hit the statistical equivalent of winning the lottery for a full armor to drop. No wonder the Dumdum came into the cavern.

I peered around the rock, the Dumdum napped near what remained of the armor set, its legs spread in the air, its horn pushing its head from the floor at an unnatural angle. I stared at its tusks as they quivered, and then a leg kicked at the air.

I grew up with dogs. The Dumdum must have been dreaming about something at least as appealing as the armor.

On the other side of the cavern, basecamp beaconed. I should have been smarter about this and sneaked back there quietly. I ran.