Itching. Gnarled fingers dig muck and lay it upon skin. 
Howling. 
In the darkness, heads turn. A second howl, a third. Echo. 
Spiraling.
The tunnels twist and curl. Life in the dark. 
HOWLING.
A solitary creature, twisted and bent. Long gangly arms wrapped around knees as it rocks back and forth. Its eyes are closed, but its mouth is open and it drools. Tears spatter the ropy fur. 

Far away, a carried wave, its voice lands upon the ears of another.  
Bounding, and they’re off. A group of figures shuffling through the rock. Climbing and crawling, their progress is steady, though the travel is long. 
Humanoid.
Glowing molds, clutching to the follicles of fur, light the way. Their eyes are orbs. Pupils dilated, eyes which are blinded by fire. 

Huffing. 
Clutching the stillborn babe, and rocking.
The dark is breaking. A pale grey light at the edges of reality. In a moment the cave is flooded with light, the first glowing mammalian crawls into the chasm. 

Silence, broken by the heavy snap of a crushed bone, and the slurping of drained marrow.
They coat themselves in blood. Ochre light now, the molds feed. 

- Chiral Day, Excerpt from Races with Indigo
646b9c979dc60578b392923cd431abf5eb019c630e695bc3f6e49e7c6a602774