text: [Themes: Science Fiction]
  
  Betrayal. It tastes bitter in your mouth. Your neck is still itching where the death-blow struck. The part of you that is called "Wiseguy" objects that you don't have a neck. Technically, that's correct.
  
  Let's take inventory, shall we? You have: a head, and a one metre long tail sprouting out from the selfsame head where the rest of your body used to be. That's it.
  
  Your mental condition has cycled between catatonic, delusional, raging and weeping for you don't know how long. Right now is one of your clearer moments.
  
  It's a bright day, literally. Or at least it's not as dark as your average day. You see, sometimes when the constellation of some shiny junk, the stars and whatnot is just right, a feeble ray of light finds its way into your godforsaken pit. You fancy the light somehow strengthens you. You also fancy your tail is growing longer every day/hour/year/other useless measurement of time. Cell by cell for cell...
  
  Fang Vs. Claw
  The Duel That Spanned the Ages Episode 2 by Oliver Ullmann / cover art by Martin Oehm
  
  The pit is just large enough to comfortably pace around, as far as you can do that with your humble assortment of extremities. All compass directions lead to nothing but towering grey walls. That's right, there's no exit, except maybe up. A slight draft hints that there must be an opening somewhere above. The walls just have to end somewhere.
  
  A feeble ray of light comes glistening down, painting a shifting pattern on the humid floor.
  
  [Author's Note: In a starlit age... ... a defeated warrior faces a world of blood and rust... ... an ancient guardian has nothing to protect but his own rage... ... a four-armed acolyte sacrifices his soul for vengeance... ... and as always, the stars shine unblinkingly upon the carnage.]
  
  > look up
  The walls grow upwards into darkness. Only a shining piece of metal can be seen far above, like a distant star.
  
  You feel on the edge of starvation. You've felt this way since you woke up in this chamber. But you don't starve. Time has no meaning here. What is this, some obscure Buddhist hell?
  
  > About yourself
  You have a head and a tail, and no, that doesn't make you a coin.
  
  You can't see much of yourself, so you have to rely on your body sense: It feels as if you once had more appendages. It feels very awkward to move your tail. The connection between your head and tail feels flat-out wrong.
  
  > Up
  Right. You really want to get out of here. But you can't fly, you can't jump properly, you cannot even walk. Just slither.
  
  > look at the head
  You run your tail over your face - thank God there's no mirror in here. Your nose and ears are reduced to frayed stumps; your whole head feels like a skull thinly wrapped in wrinkled skin.
  
  A green ball of light drops into your pit. It is zipping back and forth at a dazzling speed. You're having trouble focusing on something so fast.
  
  There, it stopped for a second: You see a green, iridescent carapace, six legs, antennae... the carapace opens, revealing wings. It is a beetle.
  
  > eat beetle
  It struggles fiercely, but finally the beetle finds itself wrapped up in your tail.
  
  Slowly, inch for inch, you pull the beetle into your mouth. Its helplessly beating wings tickle your face. Finally, it is in what counts as your stomach. You feel a flurry of bites from inside. You seize up.
  
  The thing must die. Your belly gurgles.
  
  Synthesizing such a volume of acid screws up your weak metabolism big time. You faint, but just as you do you feel the carapace give in and dissolve. There will be food....
  
  Yes. This is definitely preferable to starving.
  
  More beetles have stumbled into your pit over time. You didn't catch them all, but you've become quite adept at hunting them. Hide - wait - pounce - eat. Your conscious mind has taken a back seat for a while.
  
  A short time ago, you did something important. You don't quite remember what; it's all a blur. But you do remember a sense of accomplishment.
  
  You rest now. For the first time in ages you truly rest.
  
  Warm darkness embraces you. You are resting comfortably and fully relaxed, braced by a tightly-fitting shell. It feels maybe a little too tight.
  I beg your pardon?
  
  > examine the tail
  Actually half of your body, your tail is roughly one meter of emaciated and wrinkled wiggly-ness.
  
  > eat the beetle
  It struggles fiercely, but finally the beetle finds itself wrapped up in your tail.
  
  Slowly, inch for inch, you pull the beetle into your mouth. Its helplessly beating wings tickle your face. Finally, it is in what counts as your stomach. You feel a flurry of bites from inside. You seize up.
  
  The thing must die. Your belly gurgles.
  
  Synthesizing such a volume of acid screws up your weak metabolism big time. You faint, but just as you do you feel the carapace give in and dissolve. There will be food....
  
  Yes. This is definitely preferable to starving.
  
  More beetles have stumbled into your pit over time. You didn't catch them all, but you've become quite adept at hunting them. Hide - wait - pounce - eat. Your conscious mind has taken a back seat for a while.
  
  A short time ago, you did something important. You don't quite remember what; it's all a blur. But you do remember a sense of accomplishment.
  
  You rest now. For the first time in ages you truly rest.
  
  Warm darkness embraces you. You are resting comfortably and fully relaxed, braced by a tightly-fitting shell. It feels maybe a little too tight.
  
  > examine the shell
  The shell fits you tightly, like a second skin. It is warm and moist.
  
  > exit
  You stretch vigorously and break through the walls around you. They crack easily, like old tree bark.
  
  Your familiar pit feels much tighter now. You can actually touch opposite walls with your legs. It must all have been a matter of perspective. Or rather size.
  
  The torn remains of a cocoon are clinging to one corner of the pit.
  
  A feeble ray of light comes glistening down, painting a shifting pattern on the humid floor.
  
  > examine the pattern
  It looks like a face. It always looks like a face.
  
  > examine the legs
  What wonderful legs you have, four of them: The toes are especially beautiful. Unfortunately they're not quite made for fine manipulation of things.
  
  > About you
  Your physique resembles that of a salamander or maybe a velvet worm. You tail is longer now (and does not make up the whole of your body), and you have four stubby legs. Your skin, at least what you can see of it, is smooth and dirty grey in colour.
  
  > look at the head
  Your face/snout is somewhat elongated. No nose or ears are sticking out, but you can hear and smell nonetheless.
  
  > eat the cocoon
  You wolf down the leathery remains. They taste bland, like skin or hair does, but you might get a little nourishment from it.
  
  Eaten.
  I beg your pardon?