Huǐ Yuān awoke to the steady *drip-drip* of water echoing in the darkness. His body felt leaden, every scale throbbing with the aftermath of the rabbit's claws. The cave air was cold and damp, clinging to his wounds like a second skin. He uncoiled slowly, hissing as torn scales scraped against the rough stone floor.
*How long have I been here?*
The faint light from the cave's entrance was gone, swallowed by the suffocating blackness. His tongue flicked out, tasting the stale air—mold, minerals, and the faint metallic tang of his own blood.
*I need to move. I need to find food.*
Slithering forward, he navigated blindly, his scales brushing against jagged rocks and slick patches of moss. The cave narrowed, forcing him into a tight crevice. His body screamed in protest as he squeezed through, the walls pressing against his injuries.
*Deeper. There must be another way out.*
The darkness gave way to faint bioluminescence—pale blue fungi clinging to the walls, casting an eerie glow. Huǐ Yuān paused, his eyes adjusting. The cave branched into tunnels, some littered with bones, others glistening with moisture.
*Predators. This place isn't empty.*
A skittering sound made him freeze. From a crack in the wall, a fat cave beetle emerged, its armored shell reflecting the fungal light. Huǐ Yuān struck instinctively, but his fangs glanced off the beetle's carapace. The creature scuttled away, unharmed.
*Too slow. Too weak.*
He pressed on, his hunger gnawing like a second predator. Deeper in the cave, he found a shallow pool fed by dripping stalactites. Huǐ Yuān drank greedily, the icy water sharpening his senses. But it did nothing to fill the void in his belly.
*There's nothing here. I need to leave.*
Hours blurred as he wound through the labyrinth. His strength waned, his movements growing sluggish. Once, he startled a cluster of bats roosting overhead—their shrieks and flapping wings sent him recoiling into a stalagmite, fresh pain lancing through his side.
*Stupid. Stupid!*
Just as despair began to claw at his mind, a faint breeze brushed his scales—a whisper of fresh air. Huǐ Yuān followed it, desperation fueling his pace. The tunnel sloped upward, the air growing warmer, until at last, a sliver of daylight pierced the darkness.
*An exit.*
He burst into the open, blinking against the harsh sunlight. The forest here was different—older, denser, with gnarled trees and thick undergrowth. But Huǐ Yuān didn't care. His tongue flicked out, catching the scent of something small and warm.
*A mouse.*
It scurried near a rotting log, oblivious. Huǐ Yuān coiled, every muscle trembling. His strike was clumsy, his fangs grazing the mouse's tail. The creature squealed and darted away, but Huǐ Yuān lunged again, driven by primal need. This time, his fangs found flesh.
The warmth flooded him as the mouse's life faded—a meager trickle compared to the boar, but enough to dull the edge of his hunger. He swallowed the creature whole, his body shuddering with relief.
*Alive. For now.*
Night fell swiftly. Huǐ Yuān dragged himself into a hollow beneath the log, his scales crusted with dirt and blood. The forest hummed with unseen dangers, but exhaustion claimed him.
As he slept, the warmth from the mouse pulsed faintly in his core—a fragile ember in the dark.