Two hours ago, Rock was no more special than any other rock. Rock did not think, could not think even if Rock tried, and at the time trying wasn't even a concept Rock was aware of, nor was time. Thought was for the living, and Rock had been inanimate since it'd first formed, eons ago. Yet in the span of two hours plus, many things had changed. Including Rock.
First, there was a dent in the wall. The dungeon was all that Rock had ever known, even when it was unable to remember. Its walls were like that of a cave, many layers of sediment and stone keeping the cave sturdy and safe for the monsters inhabiting it. Whatever had caused a miniature crater in the wall must have hit it hard. Unfortunately, Rock hadn't witnessed the how or why of this matter, since Rock wasn't thinking when it happened. It was a change Rock included simply because it looked weird.
Second was when Rock initially started to ponder its sudden and immediate sentience, it was hard to think with all the noise. Clanging of metal, pained roars and loud chants had filled the dungeon chambers so much the floor rattled, bouncing Rock out of its normal place. Now, the fighting had dulled down to a low bellow deeper into the dungeon. But the air still sizzled with residual energy, perhaps the same kind that got Rock thinking in the first place.
Yet third was most important of all. Rock itself had changed. In the span of two hours and a gaggle of minutes, it realized suddenly it was alone.
Other rocks were not great at conversation. Right next to Rock was a lopsided pebble that seemed to be slathered in a filmy layer of mud. Rock had greeted it, then told it about the weird dent in the wall it'd been observing. Had the pebble noticed it? Wasn't it weird? Perhaps they could conspire its purpose together. The pebble said nothing.
Rock changed tactics fast. It openly admired the muddy layers on the pebble, how the dirt suited it. How it had this rather nice shade of purple-brown that matched the pebble's speckled body. Out of curiosity, Rock asked the pebble what it looked like. Did it have speckles? When the pebble declined to reply, Rock wondered if it'd said something wrong. Rock hastily apologized, but the pebble didn't even so much as budge. This began to infuriate Rock. It hurled an insult at the pebble, hurt by its stoic silence. The pebble remained stone-faced. Rock felt a pang of guilt, apologized again, and a long, awkward silence followed before Rock tried talking to somebody else.
The pebble's reactions were the same as all the rest Rock had tried. And Rock was starting to run out of topics.
At least, that was until the sound of footsteps began echoing down the dungeon corridor.