so 2 tinies cower forward into black, damp blindness. horrible and terribly wicked sounds echo and scurry around them as a wet, dense copper waft fills their noses too full. their tiny hearts beat, blat, blast against their chest, pounding deafening booms against their ear drums, until they feel a heavy hand gently encompass them and pin them gently flat against the ground. “Awww, my first meal has arrived so easily.” the voice is deep and resonate and chases all courage and hope from every corner and crevice. ‘meal?’ ‘surely one as mighty as yourself could never be nourished by such tiny morsels.’ “Ha, true, but you are merely the first morsel the night has bestowed.” ‘but why ruin what will obviously be such a mighty and delicious meal?’ ‘we are the tiniest and sourest of tiny things and we can tell from your mighty paw’s grip you are a beastie of great renown, deserving of scrumptious, delicious and satisfying morsels.’ ‘we could never die with peace knowing we so poorly began your night’s meal so sour and unsatisfying.’ “Awwww, I so rarely find such class and respect in these woods. You think and act well to think and act so rightly to a beastie such as myself. You are right, I deserve much better than such little things as you. You are a meal meant for some ugly and undeserving thing.”