Snap shut. Snap shut. Snap shut.

 

There is a hand in my chest and I must snap it shut.

 

My mimic mind is in full panic, in contrast to my real mind. But I can’t, no matter how much I squirm and wiggle, her firm grip holds the lid of the treasure-chest open. Her other hand is still touching my gooey, soft body. This feels embarrassing. Are you pitying me? Don’t pity me. fairy! I’m probably older than you are! I giggle childishly. That tickles. Stooop!

 

Snap shut. Snap shut. Snap shut.

 

“I used to know someone like you,” she says and lifts her petting hand back outside of the chest. Ah, wait! I was just getting used to it. Nonetheless, as her fingers graze the edge of the box and I spare a glance to see her melancholic expression again in that second, as she lets go of the lid I snap it tightly shut, like the jaws of a predator clamping down onto a fresh kill. I get nothing but air though, her hands were long gone. She is fast. That’s a fairy for you.

 

I sit inside my chest, trying to formulate an escape plan. I don’t want to be mothered. I want to find the secret-stairs. I have work to do. I have a dungeon to protect. A hero to fight. Also, I am embarrassed. I blush.

 

I smash my body around inside of the closed box to turn around and away from the fairy woman, shuffling away down towards the sub-boss area. I manage to cross the equivalent of three skeleton steps, before she talks to me again.

 

“It’s normal you know,” she asks. Huh? I stop. “Causing trouble because you’re lonely,” she goes on. “It must be hard, living alone hidden away in the dark for all of your life.”

 

I want to tell her that I’m just here for the day, but mimics aren’t big on talking. As I sit there in a rather awkward, uncomfortable silence, I get the feeling she isn’t talking about me though. I sigh.

 

The first me is a big softy, okay? I can’t help it.

 

I turn my chest around and face her again, but I don’t dare peek out of the lid. What if she looks at me again? Oh gods. What if tries to touch me again? OH GODS! My squishy pale skin is red from embarrassment.

 

Beaten and defeated, I hobble back towards the fairy-woman. I might have a minute to spare, if she wants to talk. I guess I don’t mind. It’s not like I get a lot of conversations. Ah… I wish I had talked with my friends more in my last life. They were good friends, real nice people, as far as goblins go. So, now what, fairy of the fountain? Have you got any cards or board-games or anything?

 

She speaks. “So… were you going somewhere too?” she asks. “There’s a lot going on today. First the skeletons, then the goblins and a little dark-fairy. Now you? I wonder where everyone is going?” she asks, scratching her cheek. “I don’t suppose that you know?”

 

I rattle my box, shaking it left and right as if I were nodding ‘no’. This is my only form of communication, except for laughing. But I’m too shy to laugh now, tell you what.

 

She goes on. “Well, you’re the only one going this way, the others all went down that way back there.”

 

Wait. Did she say skeletons? I didn’t see any skeletons. So did I respawn at a later time? I must have. Uh… this could be bad. If I respawned later, but on a higher floor, then won’t the adventurers be here any second?

 

A panic hits me and I spin my chest around in an instant before bursting into a sprint, or the mimic equivalent of one. I need to find the secret-stairs before I die. Sorry fountain-fairy lady. “Wait!” she cries after me as I make my escape. The desperation in her voice tugs on my heart-strings. Damn it! I wish I could be evil like the dungeon-master is sometimes, but I don’t have the heart for it.

 

I stop, the bottom of my chest skids across the stone floor, sliding another foot before I come to rest from the dissipating momentum. I really need to go, okay? This is still a long hallway and I need to check it out, plus the sub-boss room, plus the spiral path at the end of the floor. It could be anywhere. Hell, I didn’t check the first room out properly either. What if it was there? I have no time, I need to hustle. I’m sorry I was a jerk to you, okay? But I really, really, really have to g-

 

I feel a pair of hands grab my handles again. Oh no. I slouch down against the bottom of the chest as I feel myself being lifted up into the air. Oh no! Please fairy-lady, mercy! I struggle against her grip again, the chest shaking left and right in her arms. I hear a deep sigh behind me. “Okay,” she concedes. “It looks like you have some really important stuff to do,” she says softly, sounding a little sad. Yes. Yes I do! “Then let’s go together,” she suggests and I stop my struggling. Huh?

 

I feel the box shaking softly, not from her shaking me around, but rather the gentle bobbing shake of being carried. Softly, I pry open the lid, my chest is facing forward away from her. She is carrying me down the hall in the direction that I wanted to go. I have conflicting feelings about this, but I’ll allow it. It’s not like I could escape her anyways. Mimics are slow creatures, especially compared to a fairy. Through the open slit of my lid, I peer out into the corridor that we walk through. My eyes scan every brick and torch for any little detail that seems out of place as we do so.

 

“I don’t know what you’re looking for, purple, but if you see it then just let me know, okay?” she says. I don’t know what the color purple has to do with this, though? “Uh. Just knock, like this.” I hear two taps on the top of my lid. In mimic culture this would usually be considered… wait.

 

No. She did that just before. This is the second time she’s knocked on me. Wow. Rude! Did I forget that already? I knock back twice though, on the inside of the lid with some sass in acknowledgment. She doesn’t really say much else as we walk along through the dungeon. I get the feeling she’s just happy to see literally anybody. I suppose between the goblins and skeletons and undead dark-fairies, a mimic is the best conversational partner to be found here. No back-talk, a real captive audience. At least she seems nice, if not a little clingy. But we’ve all been there. Dungeon life can be lonely, I suppose, especially for a rare-spawn. There aren’t many ‘life as a fairy of the fountain’ support groups, you know? Hell, I don’t even know if there are any other non-undead fairies in the entire dungeon.

 

Why is she an exception? Dunno. Rare-mob rules I guess. I suppose the dungeon-master keeps one or two fancy extras around for style points. It seems like something he’d do. I see nothing so far. I wonder if those goblins from before managed to go up the stairs to the next level? Nah, I doubt it. Or? Hmm… No. Maybe?

 

No. I don’t think so. I don’t think the rules have changed, even if I did find a way past them. But then again, they did get up from below so…? Hmm…

 

Note to self. Check the real stairs on the lower floors. Wait. I could literally just make a note to myself but, no. No. I don’t want to open my menu. It was awkward enough as a goblin, I don’t want to have to try to explain it to her as a mimic. If she thinks I’m an adventurer, she’ll probably throw me in the water or something. I’m not a great swimmer.

 

My menu beeps immediately, as if it knew I was thinking about it. Oh no. I expect to be dropped any second, a shriek, a disgusted guttural noise, anything. But nothing happens. We are still moving at a normal pace. Didn’t she hear it? I look around, where is it? Ah, there. Huh? It’s tiny. On the inside of my chest on the front panel, as if glued onto the wooden surface of the inside. I see a new window. Something I haven’t seen before, together with the map. I can't read this, but I know what it means. I'm smart enough, even as a mimic, to know what this means. A cold dread sets over me as I do so, as I realize what I am seeing before me.

 

I shake and rattle, I need to let her know that we have to go faster. We have to hurry. We have to run.

 

“Huh?” she asks. “What’s wrong?” I shake, I shake as hard as I can, as I lunge forward in her grasp. She doesn’t let go, but is rather pulled forward by my movements. “What’s wrong, little guy? Are you in that big of a hurry?” I struggle and pull and break free from her clasp, I hear a panicked gasp as I drop to the floor. The impact is loud and noisy, the vibration shoots through me and hurts my fragile body. It doesn’t matter. Where are they? Where are they? There!

 

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” she asks somewhat concernedly. I smash my chest against the stack of coins before me and hear another mimic cackle down the way, thinking somebody set off its trap. Taking my tongue, I slide a large group of coins towards her one after the other and then hop back like I was rabid. I stand on the ground before the confused fairy now, my lid wide open. My bashfulness gone, overpowered by my preservation instinct along with my drive to protect my fellow trash-mobs. One by one I slide the coins around the dusty, grimy dungeon floor with my tongue, spelling the two goblin words that are fitting now. I hope she can read goblin-speak. After I do that, I hop down the way further and turn back to look at her, my body shaking in agitation, as I glance down at the menu again.

 

Her confused eyes dart over the words I have crudely spelled out for her.

 

Danger. Run.