Only when a bead of water splashes on the man's still face do we realise that it was a tear. A dark tomb of a cave, laced with web and dust. We hear a faint scrape, as of scales on stone, and then a chorus of serpentine hissing. We whirl, our axe moving as if it is as light as a sword, but our eyes meet hers, and they flare with cold fire, calling the stone in the floor to reach up and take us. A demon-form, twisting out of the smoke, claws shelled in chitin clicking as they extend forward, hungrily grasping.
Fire burns in it's throat, roaring from it's mouth in a burning cascade.
We see a young woman, sword held defiantly against the beast. Her companions smoulder on the floor, dead perhaps. She stands alone against the Darkness. Perhaps as a picture of a baby may be to the man it grows into. We scream for the girl, frightened for her, even though we know that all will be well.