The injured alligator was laying quietly beneath the Spire, still recovering, still plotting his next attempt at ascending. He was half-drowsing, lost in that odd empty state that he slipped into when resting or lurking in ambush, while hunting. His ribs ached, but not as badly as they had. It didn't hurt to breath so much, now. His right hind leg, though, still felt broken--almost shattered. He couldn't put weight on it, so he was still lying there in the blue glow when the cave began to tremble. He looked around, blinking his gold-glittered dark eyes, and then the deafening screech tore through the room and his mind.

He cringed down, tail lashing over the stone, and at first he thought it must be Eve. Looking around, though, he saw no sign of her; then he wondered if Nemean were returning.

The whole cave still trembled, and then he found himself fearing the return of Raheerah--and an instant later, he was hissing toward the ceiling, just daring the dragon to come down. He was out, alone, vulnerable, wounded; if the dragon would come, let him come. He'd die fighting. Never mind the fact that the giant moth wings laid out to either side of him--seemingly for no reason--would leave him dying while looking like an idiot.

But nothing came; the trembling ceased, and the screeching, and he found himself alone in silence once more.

So... what the hell was that? he wondered, heart racing (by alligator standards, anyway) and eyes flicking warily from point to point.

But he saw nothing out of the ordinary, and that, perhaps, was even more disturbing.