<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v181/Kittenpeeler/Three/Three.jpg)</div>Kurtulmak's third nut, she was<em>sore</em>. And worse, her nose itched. Since Three's arms didn't feel like responding to her brain - not that her brain was feeling real active at the moment itself, she simply snorted to solve the problem... and was rewarded with a<em>lovely</em>mix of sand, clay dust, and the ever-wonderful stench of powdered bat guano. That did the trick, and her arms and legs began flailing around, only to find that instead of being on the nice, loamy soil of her clan's underforest warren, she was flat on her face on something hard and unpleasantly cold. Finally, her hands and brain managed to coordinate the plan, and with a slow heave, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.<br/><br/>"No more mushroom beer," she promised herself in a hoarse, dry-mouthed whisper. It wasn't the first time she had lied to herself about that, and it sure wouldn't be the last. Three pushed herself the rest of the way up, absently brushing the cavern's grit off of the smooth skin of her chest.<em>Wait</em>. Three fiddled around with her chest and arms, small hands slapping on muscle, skin, and scale, before she let out a groan of dismay. "<em>Not again!</em>!" This was followed by a quiet snarl of pain as the lingering traces of alcohol in her system decided to stab her somewhere in the upper spinal column.<br/><br/>And she hadn't even opened her eyes yet. Her eyelids were giving their report and it said simply, "don't wanna." Still, she was in a strange cave, and had apparently traded her clothes for another flagon - again not the first and probably not the last time - and she had to see where. First one eye opened. The other fluttered, lifted, snapped shut again, forcing her to lift a knuckle to rub it. There we go, fuzzy, smeary blurs,<em>in binocular vision!</em>Again, the beer began stabbing, but already she was getting used to it.<br/><br/>"I would fuck a dwarf to know where I am right now," she muttered after a moment, clawlike nails scratching at her chin. Once her eyes could make out more than blobs of light and not-light, she took a look around her surroundings. A hugely spacious alcove, at least for her, sandy, dirty floor... She reached out, scratching at a wall and bringing the nail to her mouth to taste.<em>Deposit limestone</em>, nothing strange for a cave. "Well, come on, time to go-WAAAGH, erf!<em>FUCK!</em>" She had stood, started forward, and pitched to the ground in a flattened heap of tail, elbows, and eyeballs, and of course that not-at-all quiet yelp. For a moment, Three lay there, considering going back to sleep... But no, that trickle of water was reminding her how absolutely parched she was. Looking down, she found her three-toed feet were tangled up in a heap of green cloth lined with the fur of voles and stoats.<br/><br/>Well, maybe she hadn't traded off ALL her clothes! Untangling herself, she refastened the loincloth around her hips and straightened the leggings, and once again stood up. Still wobbly, but no longer flying forward. Again, a rub at her eyes, now feeling awake, if not exactly perky, and she looked around her niche one final time...