drabble Your name is Crabdadsprite. It has been exactly a sweep and a half since you last saw your wriggler. You still remember the day you were summoned to the caverns; the day you first saw him. He was so little and vivid amongst his peers. You remember scooping him up in your large claws and the way he slid down inside of them, mewling and gurgling as he gazed up at you with big, grey eyes. He had been so small, so delicate. As the sweeps pass you had watched him grow up. Slowly aging, slowly drifting. You remember the day he traded his wriggler scratchers for his own two feet; the day his horns began to really grow in; the day he learned his