Metamorphosis

He wandered along the course of the tunnels for a long while. Sometimes the tunnels slanted upwards and led to places where the harsh white light from above shone through unobstructed openings. Sometimes there were stairs, other times only ramps. They led to the room above. Specific details were different. Structures were of different shapes and sizes. At times they were more densely packed than others. He explored one shadowed warren which was made of the walls of those structures.

The less-ruined ones were inhabited. The ones residing here were darker and coarser than those who resided below. They were worn by the light and the heat and the dirt and the wind. They were warlike, not like the ones residing near the pools below. They battled over access to liquid which bubbled up from some place underground or collected in dark ravines where it was not devoured by the relentless light or parched earth. He could not understand why they would be in such a conflict. The liquid was grimy with the dusty deposit flung everywhere by the gusting wind. He tried it and found it lacking.

He returned to the place from which he emerged and continued through the tunnels. In some places the light was dimmer, filtering through a jumbled pile of rubble, or through cracks in the walls or ceiling which opened parts of it to the open space above. Some of the tunnels were collapsed entirely. He found ways around them, through smaller shafts which was at times accessible nearby, or through jagged paths crudely hacked into the walls. He took as long as was necessary to travel.

He came upon other inhabited places. He arrived at a commonality as to why they chose to reside where they did. They lived where the openings in the stone were large enough to allow them to pass through and where they had an easy way to access other creatures and the liquid.

He continued along the tunnels and in time emerged into a familiar place. It was the place at the bottom of the stairs, where the young woman and her companions had dragged the beast. It was still inhabited. He found that satisfactory.

The strangers in red came then. He recognized two of them. One was the leader of the strangers in red, different now compared to long ago. The other was the young woman. She was more different, now. She bore more scars. She was no longer young. Some of the residents of the place under the stairs seemed to be aware of who she once was. They did not share this with her or with one another or with the strangers in red. He suspected it would not have changed things.

The strangers in red took goods in tribute. They seized meat and tubers as they had previously and placed them into the trolleys which were again pulled out of shadowed recesses. Some members of the group under the stairs were chosen to push them. He found it familiar.

The woman took offered objects with the same coldness as the other strangers and placed them in the squeaking, wobbly carts with an indifferent expression. She hid her feelings well.

When the leader of the strangers in red felt enough had been taken, the group set off down the tunnel. He was going in the same direction. He followed her again.

Now the woman marched alongside the other strangers in red, rather than among them.