Isabella didn't move for a full ten seconds. She just sat there—frozen, eyes wide, lips parted—like her brain had quietly exited her body to file a complaint with the universe.
Two hundred.
Two hundred.
Her breathing hitched, then quickened, then broke completely.
"Oh my god," she muttered, staring at the fire. "Oh my god, I'm a lizard farm. I'm—no. No. Nope. Nope." She stood up abruptly, almost tripping over a rock. "I can't. I won't. I—"
"Host, breathe," Bubu began calmly.
"Breathe?!" Isabella snapped, pacing in frantic circles. "Bubu, I'm about to become an incubator! Don't tell me to breathe!"
Glimora, perched on a log, tilted her small white head in confusion. She let out a worried squeak and hopped over to Isabella's feet, wrapping her tiny arms around her ankle as if that would stop her from combusting.
