Buried in the dark, inky gloom are long chains of slow, torturous breathing. Have they been here the entire time? Did they just show up? I guess it doesn’t really matter—they’re here now. All that’s left is to remain still as a corpse and listen to the silent visitor.

My monster, on the other hand, is much less patient. He’s already rattling his cage with the idea of going out in a blaze of glory and dead bodies. The only way to restrain him is by pointing out the obvious differences between this gentle breath and the choppy Eutherians. They snarl and snort in very disgusting ways. You can actually hear the wind swirling through the crushed bones of their faces. The breathing I hear is calm and smooth, without any of that nastiness. So, this leads me to believe it has be someth...

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