For three days Damon was laid out with a burning fever in his cavern, barely able to summon the lucidity not to crap all over himself.

The feeling was like his insides had come alive and were slowly hollowing him out, like his own strength was being turned against him in a series of superpowered cramps.

For three days.

He was lucky not to be found and eaten by any predators during that time.

That luck ran out on day four.

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Water. Drops.

Fresh water.

Rain.

Damon's mind was a solo note singer, a single strung banjo, a cat keening for custard.

On day 3 it turned feral.

Sweat. Spit.

Lather, or snot.

Piss, damnit.

I'll take fucking anything, so long as it's wet.

Damon was not doing well. He'd been keeping it together, yet soon enough it became clear that his leaking body was reaching its limit. He'd tried to think of solutions, but by the time things turned bad enough that recovery was unlikely, thinking at all had turned into a struggle.

When the pain started out, Damon quickly grew suspicious of what was in that water. It didn't taste too bad. But no matter how he reasoned, the conclusion was that it must be 50% turtle shit, or close enough as to make no difference. He'd realized the danger, although he'd still been trusting in his new, magically enhanced constitution to pull through by that point.

Then he'd tried walking to find a better source of sustenance, keeping in between the hills all the while, since he'd lost the speed to run away if anything dangerous happened to spot him.

Luckily that did not occur. But when the cramping started, Damon had to make the difficult decision to turn back around, in order to try and overcome the worst of the pains safely hidden away in his dugout.

He needed to get back there before it was too late or he would simply succumb out in the open.

He just barely made it.

Although once the cramp attack was over, he did not grow steadily worse, but rather kept suffering from sudden attacks that left him in a sweaty, worn out and twitchy pile every few hours.

In between episodes Damon was feeling mostly alright, only worn out, so he used the time to keep working on expanding his hidden, secondary cave—still hoping against reason that the pains would pass without him having to go anywhere, and before his strength reserves evaporated.

That slim hope was running out by the time he woke up on his fourth day, feeling worse than ever.

That's when the fever dreams started; visions of strange liquids and substances intermingling, forming repeating patterns and shapes.

First strange, sea- and mammalian creatures.

Then their skeletons.

They sang and they danced, while Damon fearfully wished they would leave him alone, to recover in peace.

That's when the soft drone from the Shuffle restarted, adding on to his increasing stress.

Although it was slightly different, to Damon's delirious ears. The Shuffle's drone had been a loud constant, in spite of how their speed had varied. They never heard it from anywhere else, only ever the soft, steady droning of their own island home.

This new sound kept increasing in intensity.

Is it coming closer?

No. After a while it crescendoed, maintaining a new high.

Then the smell in the air changed.

Could it be?

Rain.

Damon's legs resummoned strength previously wasted away on the shitter: Hidden reserves primed precisely for such a situation; he exited the safety of his cave, and entered a deluge.

That was when he first heard it.

When the lion first roared.

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Damon was standing out beneath wide, open skies, mouth fully unfolded to greet the pouring rain. That was when it happened: when the echoing sound came bouncing back from the walls all around, a sound which turned his spine into jelly and woke up his sleepy, ancient ancestors to cry warnings in the back of his mind.

Roarrr.

The powerful, echoing noise shook the sands, and distorted the falling rain. But it didn't stop Damon from drinking. Even if he was in trouble, he knew he'd need his strength.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Whatever comes.

His eyes started roaming though, but with the heavy rain it was difficult to see all the way to the other side of the pit.

While the liquid of life returned to fill out his limbs; Damon tried to work out what he was facing, and more importantly, why it wasn't approaching him. Is it busy hunting something else?

When Damon had been drinking for close to 15 minutes, the deep, echoing roar could be heard again—and thankfully not poised to pounce from above—meaning the creature had to still be down here in the pit. On the bright side, this could be my chance to level and awake my Class… just don't be another beast king. Please, not for my first real encounter.

Damon could not stand the tension any longer, so decided to make use of the heavy rain while it still lasted—considering how it was likely to be the only thing keeping the predator from smelling or spotting him. Yet he approached carefully, still feeling a dribble of strength returning to his limbs with every minute.

Wish I had a proper weapon. Or that I'd finished that 2nd cave.

He'd never even gotten around to sharpening that rock. Now, it was suddenly go time.

As he crept through the rain, stepping silently in the soft sand, a silhouette slowly appeared—four-legged and hunched over something, which the creature was carefully prodding and grappling with causing a strange clacking sound as it continuously bit down.

The white mane was huge, and the working shoulder blades looked twice as wide as a pitbull's. What is it eating?

Damon's progress had slowed to a crawl, but he still edged around to get a better look.

What it looked like was a giant, brown thigh. Human, or close enough. Possibly having belonged to some sort of giant.

When he got closer… Damon realized it was something similar, but slightly more familiar; a tree trunk. Is it gnawing the bark?

Just as he realized what the strange creature had hunted down, it seemed to sense his presence as well, as it turned around in a flash to face him; long, wispy chin-beard flapping, tongue lolling and nostrils flaring, square pupils rolling in its head maddeningly.

At first it just bleated at him—until the sound suddenly ignited like a jet engine, transforming into the huge roar from before.

Damon let the wall of sound wash over him as he slowly rose from his crouch, straightening up with a perplexed look on his face.

It's a goat.

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[Greatmane Billy Chimera - level ??]

Damon had a hard time believing what he was seeing at first. And at second. It's a goat. With incisors, and a mane, and front paws.

The feeling looked to be mutual, as the goat kept its face staring right at him, despite both eyes seemingly rolling around aimlessly. It seemed surprised that he didn’t run away, after that mighty roar, but Damon was just too damn interested in what the hell it was he was looking at.

Is it really a predator? Damon snuck a peek behind it, immediately causing the strange-looking beast to reposition protectively, shielding its… tree trunk.

The move forced Damon to stifle a chuckle, there was just something so comical about the creature really thinking that maybe he wanted its bark.

The beast seemed to sense his amusement, because it suddenly looked less guarded, likely clocking how Damon was not behaving like a threat normally would.

The two of them stood like that for several minutes, the tension slowly leaving Damon's body—until it ran all out of adrenaline, and left him feeling weaker than jelly.

Damon started slowly swaying—then suddenly collapsed, only to find himself caught by a warm body, with magnificent white fur.

The fever had lessened in intensity, but it still made him slightly delirious, and the fur reminded Damon of his big, furry childhood friend. His father. He instinctively started scratching the big oaf, and judging by the resulting sounds—the treatment was most welcome.

He remained there for who knows how long, his new goat-lion-chimera friend was not inclined to keep the time for them. But he was inclined to drag the clutched on Damon over to his bark, so he could keep gnawing.

They stayed like that for hours, until Damon's body had absorbed enough liquids from the rain to allow him to fall asleep.

Then the Billy carried him over to the newly dug, dry cavern and lay down.

It was nice.