Everyone owns a gun deep inside

The voice of a stranger broke into Melanthios’ thoughts. They turned their firey gaze to a smaller wolf, though honestly it seemed like just about everyone was much smaller than they were. Selective breeding in their line had produced a number of giants… and then there was their cousin who was smaller than even the wolf before them. Melanthios regarded them quietly for a couple seconds before allowing their voice, still a touch feminine, to rumble from their mouth. “No, definitely not a cave.” They replied. Their gaze swept the room, finding some things made of rotting wood strewn about here and there.

“It reminds me of something my mother once told me. A place made by creatures called Twolegs. They walked upright… and made all sorts of bizarre dens and such that no other beast could hope to make. They were… fascinating. Though from my understanding have been gone from this world for years.” Melanthios walked over to one of the boxes and pushed on it. The wood gave way, splintering with a flurry of dust.

“I think they call a place like this a crypt. A place where they bury their dead in mass.” The beast looked back to the stranger. “Care to explore it with me?” The thought of the feline was still on their mind. No doubt Mela could take it, but having company for a change might be nice. “Unless you’d rather not head deeper into a tomb.”