In the darkness, no light. no warmth.

Forcing the boundaries. pain, burning;

HUNGER!

another attempt; like acid it burns

it divides it's efforts. one portion circles the minute seed of power just beginning to grow within the steel hard walls of parental love and layer after layer of other protections. not a crack.

the other probes again and again at larger boundaries. recoils from the wounds, salves the burns in the deep earth, far below the extent of the warding powers.

Again. the hunger burns almost as badly as the attempts on the wards.

the parts join once more. hatred. hunger. fear.....
NO!
no fear!
NO fear. HUNGER!

a tendril follows minute cracks in the rock, flows through pores as do the gases of the earth, flows and follows the paths.

Here.

a pipe pierces the wards. and

there....

not a breach, but a weakness.

and there, the same pipe, going through the wooden walls.

A mold spore, black like the darkness. black as ptich, black as evil.

Focus. Encourage the mold into growth.

[NO! growth burns!! WRECK! EAT! HUNGER! ]

Destruction in growth. slow. subtle. the one who cast the wards is young. it will not suspect the subtlety.

The mold adds another cell, pulling nutrients from the wood, weakening wood and ward by minute increments.

they will not suspect.

darkness.

hunger....

anticipation.