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... tin dragging against stone. From a low tunnel mouth, two beetle scouts crawled into the midden chamber.

Their carapaces glimmered faintly with a dull, resinous sheen, antennae cutting the air like twitching blades. They moved with mechanical precision, mandibles clacking in a soft, unnerving rhythm as they hauled fragments of bone and rot from the tunnels and cast them onto the midden heaps.

The refuse tumbled down in wet thuds, adding to the grotesque mound of decay, as though t ...

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