"Shit," Hazel muttered under her breath, her voice trembling as she fought to steady herself. The creature's spindly legs lashed out, darting at her. She barely dodged them, her hooves pressed firmly against the insect's back.

"Shit, shit, shit." She edged forward, cautiously. The bug was riled up but not fully enraged—there was still time to cross. One step. Then another. Slowly, she inched ahead, ducking beneath the web of legs that now formed a looming archway above her. Step by step, she pressed on, the oversized insect gradually settling as she moved with deliberate caution.

“This thing is way too long,” she muttered, frustration and fear thick in her voice. If the creature went down, she’d go right down with it—and her hooves weren’t exactly made for scrambling up sheer cliffs. Spotting the far side, Hazel grew anxious and quickened her pace. No longer as cautious, her hoof landed with a loud CRACK! The insect shrieked and bucked, flinging her into the air. She slammed into the ceiling, dislodging rubble as she fell. By some ridiculous stroke of luck, she was hurled to the other side, crashing hard in a painful tumble.

The millipede lunged at her, but the cliff edge crumbled under its weight, sending it plummeting with a series of sickening snaps and cracks. Trembling, Hazel backed away and found a smaller chamber nearby to take shelter. She needed a moment to steady her nerves. Pulling out her journal, she jotted down the little she’d learned about the strange creature.