The tiny, beady, black eyes pierce directly through my minds, as if carelessly transcribing my every thought. The stick stands still in a discomforting silence, uninterested in anything else in the room. Unsure what to do, the memory of the immensely powerful steward at Central City’s tower somehow floods my consciousness like an inspirational alarm. Yes, yes, when in doubt, it’s best to become very, very small and prostrate.

  Face down, I spread my arms out towards the mysterious entity and tremble.

  “Gud gob. Non fier. Non fier,” I quietly mumble into the grimy rock, just barely loud enough to convey my peaceful, compliant intent.

  The total silence stagnantly continues its reign without end. The oppressive energy in the room is much too terrifying to look at him directly, but what if he wants something? What if I miss his demands? He’s not speaking. However, if he’s gesturing for me to leave, then I’m snubbing his wishes. He may be angry that I’m ignoring it!

  Urgently jerking my head up to look, I’m unnerved to discover that the stick’s now standing right between my outstretched hands. Neither the slightest sound nor breeze betrayed his movement. The strange, beady eyes still adhere to my tiny presence blotching the rocky floor. Confirming that he has my attention, he smoothly raises up a single hand with his palm facing towards my face.

  Tiny, snake-like tendrils spread out from his fingers, forming a complex web of densely fibrous threads in the small space between us. I can’t take my eyes off it. It’s so intimately familiar, however this extraordinary intricacy and control makes it all feel new again. Is that the ladder? The threads of the ladder? What is he doing?

  Lost wondering about his intentions, the web completes its formation into a solid status panel floating right before my eyes.

  “Scrul? Non gnos…?” I uncontrollably fumble the words from my lips, lost in the still silent happenings.

  The stick subtly shakes its narrow, covered head. I swear that it’s wearing a look of disappointment in response to my reply. Did I do something wrong? Have I failed the powers that he represents?

  After lightly snapping the fingers on his free hand, another portal opens right beside me. Surprised, I quickly dodge to the side as if avoiding ambush. The stick remains standing completely motionless. However, a single finger on its dangling, free hand lifts to clearly point at the shimmering portal.

  It wants me to go inside? Where does it lead? Am I the anomaly? What labor? What did I do wrong? Is it punishing me?

  The earth shattering confusion freezing me in place for far, far too long, the stick simply remains motionless and continues pointing at the portal. My mind finally settles. Such an existence may not be disobeyed. As with those dangling eyes and the bizarre, singing teeth, this is unfathomably beyond my limited ability to properly comprehend. I must do as he wishes, even if his desire is unclear. All implied and imagined alternatives are so much worse.

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  Readying myself to leave, I recall that Ha’koff’s spent, unconscious body is still lying in the corner. Politely scuttling over to reattach him to my belt, I then take his burden upon my shoulders once again. The awkward waddle back over to the stick is nerve racking, but I refuse to leave the team behind. Despite my petty procrastinations, the skinny existence simply remains motionless and pointing at the portal. Only its beady little eyes follow my efforts around the cave.

  Taking a deep breath, I finally step through. Immediately dropping Ha’koff on the other side, I fight the sickening disorientation and scan the area for danger. Nothing from the slime. Nothing in the distance. Wait, isn’t this the same mound where we started?

  Behind me, a single goblin-sized enclosure of hardened mud collapses, shuttering the shimmering light it hosted inside moments ago. We’re back? Is this really home? It’s not pretending? There’s nothing hiding and about to pounce, is there?

  “Oh! Oh oh!” an excited voice nearby shouts, followed by the pattering sounds of tiny feet scurrying over towards me. “Afras? Afras!”

  We’re really back. Ignoring Ah’choo’s wearisome antics, I scramble over to lift Ha’koff’s nearly lifeless body. He must rest immediately. Who knows how much time he has left? I refuse to lose access to my precious, second mud. The experiment mustn’t end here!

  Quickly braving the narrow gangway and then digging a solid six feet down, I lower Ha’koff into the messy hole. Perfect. Cover that back up and give him a few hours, and then he’ll be back to normal. One problem solved.

  However, before digging a little pit of my own, I stop to reflect, a sense of safety once again sinking in. What was that place? It wasn’t simply another hunt. It was so strange, and yet a part of me felt almost at home there. Not home like under the mud or in the dark caves beneath the mound. A very different sort of familiar home, but still certainly a home.

  Is that coming from the deep mind? Why does it keep counter signaling the mud mind like this? It’s so confusing! Home is here, not some set of dangerous, mystery tunnels in the middle of nowhere. Duh.

  This deep mind’s unquestionably a definite, inseparable part of me. However, sometimes a part of me wishes to fight it, fully surrendering to the mud. Life would be so much easier simply accepting the mud. Although, there’s also a strangely clear certainty that I can’t do that. Even if I clearly want to do that. Surrendering is so easy.

  No, no, I don’t want to do that! The deep mind is important. Critical. The deep mind is what first sang to me. The deep mind gave me my status. It’s what keeps begging me to climb and grow. The mud only wishes for me to die. To die for a cause. Maybe even a good one? However, it’s always someone else’s and not my own. The deep mind doggedly demands the freedom to live and choose. The mud mind sweetly promises freedom from all concern for the cheap price of an eternal, deathless servitude.

  Ugh, this stupid conflict. It never stops. That perpetual fight witnessed inside my minds was the same. Is the same! They ceaselessly struggle against each other as if coexistence is impossible. Is there meant to be a winner? Is that the problem? Can the two truly not cohabitate as equals without this constant conflict?

  Shaking my head and slumping my shoulders, I give up on solving this deep philosophical dilemma for now. After digging a shallow hole for myself, I bury my weary, little head and sleep. The whole team sleeps. No threats will target us here.

  The pressure of the enclosing mud takes me into its loving embrace. There’s nothing to care about down here. Just close your eyes and fade away. The mud will always bring you back again, no worries. Just give in. Just give up. Just take its tiny little hand and step down from that wretched, ugly, difficult path. It’s not hard. The mud will show you how. Just say yes.

  Rage and defiance boils, and the deep mind furiously punches through the peace, demanding something more. Again the cycle repeats, before the welcome movement into a brief oblivion takes me.