Strange sounds disturbed the silence of her slumber. The rock trembled in rhythm with a thrumming roar. The air around her grew warm, and she stirred irritably, comfort destroyed.
The roaring finally ceased, and as the accompanying heat dissipated she relaxed and drifted back into slumber until new sounds startled her awake once again. Sharp taps grew in frequency and intensity, fevering her brain like water dripping from a stalactite. She shifted again and again, trying to block out the tapping, but it was joined by an unrhythmic metallic banging that jolted her consciousness intolerably.
The thrumming returned, but only briefly, as something sharp penetrated the wall and struck her hip. She jerked away from the painful intrusion, whirling to face the pinprick of light that appeared as the sharp tip was withdrawn. Other sounds reached her ears through the light, these maddeningly familiar. The shouts of men penetrated her memories, stirring her belly with hate and resentment.
She moved rapidly, fury giving strength to muscles long unused. Her head shattered the thin wall separating her from intruders. The pitch of the shouts rose satisfyingly, and she could see figures running toward a bright white archway at the far end of a carefully crafted tunnel. Her jaws parted in a feral grin; their fear could not save them. She heard their screams as liquid fire turned the walls of their tunnel to glass, smelled the satisfying scent of fresh meat as their cries gurgled into silence.
Her belly rumbled with a different need, and she salivated. The now steaming air stimulated her, and the urge to spread her wings drove her toward the white archway. She burst from darkness into light, her roar shattering glass, her wings darkening the sky. She would rule again.
The Word Worker 