Licorice lifted up a patch of the bog's mushy dirt, throwing it to the side, and revealing a makeshift hole in the ground, the flowers from the ground growing from inside that dirt, and giving off a slight glow to lead the way down a rope ladder. Maybe I was about to be assimiliated to a family of living mole people, but I'd find out later that this arrangement was only a temporary meeting place for myself and the rest of them.

And so, descent. My thick body grew cramped against the tunnel, claw threatening to snap the rope in half, and no other claw to save me if that was to occur. It did not take too long, and the lights grew brighter as I descended -- flowers replaced by much more efficient shrooms. A carved out room made of stone. Throwing my body down to enter it through the makeshift hole that let us through. A room with a circular table made of the darkest wood imaginable, and three other doors on varying angles. Licorice directed me towards the one right next to the entrance, before, presumably, deciding that long haul was over with, and parting ways into another door.

Where I was led was another thin, dirt hallway. Damp, having to crouch to even walk through it in some parts, and vastly uncomfortable. It felt like a sick joke. What would be at the end of something like this? ...Was I wrong about the mole people?

Yes, yes I was. I was the mole along the people here.