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Before descending the dung throne, Digs-Alone's pheromones were giving off the impression that he was in high spirits, and looking to mate. After Umber-Shield calls out to him in hisses and clicks, a shocked and defensive Digs-Alone quickly shows his guilt with a new, telltale scent and movement pattern.
The always-jittery Fire-Prong's antennae go into overdrive, communicating to his tribe that this seems a bit fishy. He leaps on Umber-Shield and is quickly turned on his back by Chomp-Chomp, who guards the elders. Fire-Prong wobbles and rocks back and forth a few times until he rights himself, then returns to warning the elders of conspiracy after conspiracy that will come true if we don't "punish traitors".
Fire-Prong despaired more than any roach that we would be stuck in Hell forever, frequently spreading his doomsayer's panic to others. Yet he was also one of the most prolific diggers, and lieutenant of the digging council under Chipped-Shell. He called all roaches to dig, dig, dig throughout the morning, day and night, even when his faith waivered. It's only natural that he doesn't trust Digs-Alone, especially under the given circumstances.
Under smoke-hazed skies, the lukewarmth of the late evening feels good on our underbellies, but our minds are all racing. The renegade Digs-Alone slowly crawls to us, carapace covered in glorious filth. Doth he think himself a king? He apologizes meekly, and appears happy to be reconnected with his tribe. Fire-Prong urges again to the elders that we must keep him out of the tribe permanently. Why didn't he come back to show us the surface?
Digs-Alone takes offense and interjects to defend himself, when a screeching, swooping apparition pays an unexpected visit. Digs-Alone shits the floor as a defensive and communicative display, and skitters under the abandoned metal monster and begins digging underground, urging the Rhinoceros Tribe to follow suit. We don't have time to doubt him.
...
The incursion ends as soon it began, but we all saw the terror.
An iron-tough beak that a toucan would envy. Red-caked feathers of a vulture. The disco-ball eyes of a horsefly. Bony wings, like a vampire bat. A wild turkey's mutated paws. The insatiable bloodthirst of a mosquito. This is the fate of all the island's puffins who survived The Collapse. Puffins no longer, now they are the Shadow Devils of the Sky, and they fear little.
Deep into the night, we watch from our shallow burrows, even after the devil vanished far into the haze. The elders consult and decide it's time to move. We run through a bomb-torn clearing until dawn creeps up on us, and the sunlight forces us into our senses. We find a withered tree trunk with soft soil near it, and dig camp for the day.
Leaving camp in the evening, Chomp-Chomp's HissBoy beeps, revealing another undiscovered location. Where should we go? (Refer to image)
>Undiscovered Location 1
>Undiscovered Location 2
>Undiscovered Location 3
>Undiscovered Location 4
>Write-in
