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Debt? If she truly thought that, she would immediately hop into his mouth and lie on his teeth. A deep rumble of unimpressed dissatisfaction with the human's lack of sincerity came from Mercy's throat. The terrible sound was dwarfed by the oncoming storm, however. He grew quiet, feeding from the fear it generated in the humans; what else could he do but follow along? They were bound to grow in number, and together, he would feast every day without even needing to try hard. The very world was a danger to them upon waking, and it made their dark little hearts quake, the fragile things. Glowing eyes focused on the chattiest human, answering his question as he eventually followed in their tiny footsteps. Mercy couldn't understand why he kept being referred to as [i]big[/i], when nearly everything was larger than the humans, even the things they built, themselves.

Of course, the Wild couldn't fit inside the building, but it was not as if he needed to. Weathering some of the worst storms meant hardening his hide and closing his eyes, and this felt far from the worst he'd lived through, thus far. He wondered how long it would take for the humans to start killing each other here, too. It almost always seemed to end up that way, and it would be a terrible shame if they died inside the building. The holes would be far too small for him to get to their corpses, and damaging the building would mean their red, warm juices would be wasted on the dead earth.

Eventually, he noticed that there [i]was[/i] a rare opening into the building. Taking one wary look at the humans, he clambered into the space, entering without much care, scratching up the edges of the door with his heft. He sat on the floor and licked his wounds, the holes in his body still oozing steam and what appeared to be some form of organic magma, hardening into a metallic scab.