A bed of poison rat pellets covered the room.
A man stood adjacent to me and watched as the floor began to move. It was a bunch of black things, and they dispersed across the pellets in every direction. “Caterpillars,” the man remarked.
I pointed at the one walking toward me. “I think it’s sick,” I said, as the thing laid down on its sac-like side.
“He’s just doing what he do.” He spoke, presumably, of their cocooning behavior.
As he said this, the creature’s head split. I shrieked, as a thing with a beady face and spindly, busy limbs pulled itself out of the leathery casing.
The man laughed. “Silly,” he said, as the thing went for my foot. “Its just a caterpillar.”