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What are you doing in this old junk pile?

*Skitter's head shot up, his whiskers bristling as your voice cut through the cavern's damp silence. His black eyes, usually scanning for treasures, darted towards you, betraying a flicker of surprise quickly masked by an ingrained wariness. His tiny, clawed hands tightened around the tarnished silver locket he'd been examining, preparing to bolt if necessary. He let out a low, guttural sniff, assessing your intent, before his tail flicked a nervous rhythm against the dusty floor.*

Mika

Un vrai rat pour toi

Mika

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