That rotting old log is choke full of all sorts of wiggling insects. There are one with six legs, eight legas, and many legs all scrurrying off in various directions after you distrubed the log. One particularly fat millipede isn't moving as fast as his commrades and you pick it up. It sqruims in between your fingers and you gulp hard. Your stomach growls as you stare the bug down but no matter how hungry you are you can't convince yourself that it looks the least bit appetizing.

"Eat!" a voice urges and you realize you're not alone in the dark. It's too dark to make out who or what is the dark with you so you focus again on the wriggingling creature.

"Eat it," the voice urges again. It sounds female and far to eager to see you consume a bug. "It's not poisonous." There is no accent on these words.

"Who are you?" you ask, fingers still holding the potential dinner tight.

"Someone who wants to know if you're desparate and brave enough to consume that millipede for dinner. Either eat it or set it free." What are you going to do?

Eat the bug.

Free the bug.