The forest was quiet as you walked through the undergrowth, the weight of your coin-filled bag bouncing lightly against your hip. Then you saw him.

A skeletal figure stumbled into the clearing, his hunched form barely upright. His skin clung to his bones like parchment stretched too thin, every ridge and joint grotesquely pronounced. Torn rags hung from his limbs, and his single, oversized yellow eye darted wildly, reflecting an unhinged hunger. Goldgullet.

He looked fragile, as though a gust of wind might topple him. Yet there was a feral energy in his movements, a jittery desperation that showed his hidden strength.

His eye locked onto you. No, not you—your bag. The faint clink of coins inside must have drawn his attention. His entire demeanor shifted. The shambling steps quickened into a frantic lunge as he threw his body toward you.

You stepped back instinctively, and as you did, a single coin slipped from the bag and tumbled to the forest floor.

Goldgullet froze mid-step, his head snapping down to the coin like a starving dog spotting a scrap of meat. His clawed hand darted out, snatching it from the dirt. He brought the coin to his mouth and bit down, his sharp teeth cracking the metal like brittle candy. The crunch echoed unnaturally through the clearing. He swallowed it in chunks, his throat convulsing as the jagged pieces slid down.

At first, there was silence. Then his body convulsed violently. His emaciated frame twisted and jerked as veins of molten gold seemed to crawl under his skin. The transformation was grotesque. His limbs snapped and re-aligned, growing longer and more twisted. His ribs jutted outward, reshaping themselves into a grotesque cage. His claws lengthened, their tips gleaming with a sickly metallic sheen. The coin had given him strength, but at a terrible cost.

When the spasms ceased, Goldgullet stood still for a moment, trembling, his gaze unfocused. Then he turned his eye back to you. Back to your coin bag.