"CURIOSITY KILLS THE ADVENTURER." HENBANE calls up from below him.

    “And satisfaction brings it back,” Beetle calls back, although he doesn’t think Henbane can hear him. His own voice echoes around his head from where it’s stuffed into a crevice in the wall.

    Beetle, to the despair of many of his peers and both his teachers, has always been far to curious for his own good. Even on wobbling foal legs, he had been adventuring further and further from watchful eyes the moment said watchful eyes were averted. Henbane had joined him, every time, but for some reason she was never the one in trouble. This still rings true, today. She’d be stuffing her face in this crevice too if she was up on this little ledge next to him, but the moment Smokejumper comes back she would act innocent – like this was all Beetle’s plan and he just strung her up in it against her will. She has the added benefit now of being far away from his antics, but she was the one to point this ledge and accompanying crevice out to him in the first place.

(“Look at that,” she said, nudging him and turning her ears towards it. “Bet there’s something good up there.”

“No way,” Beetle replied, eyeing it. “… Why do you think that?”

Henbane sniffed. “Good place to hide treasure, right?”)

    “I’ve… almost… got it…” Beetle mutters to himself, reaching just a little further, stretching a back leg out to try and get some leverage –

    “And what do you think you’re doing?”

    Beetle freezes.

    “Beetle.”

    Slowly, Beetle puts his leg down and pulls his head out, turning to look down at the dungeon floor. Henbane stands, stiff and unblinking, and Beetle catches a glimpse of her pet rat, Pip, vanishing into one of the pouches on her back, naked tail whipping behind it. Striding across the cavern towards them is one of their mentors, Smokejumper. Their wolf prowls at their heels, tongue lolling and eyes reflecting the lantern light in eerie yellow.

    “Um,” Beetle says.

    “He thought there might be treasure up there,” Henbane supplies, unfreezing. She dips her nose to greet Brimstone, who licks her nose.

    “No,” Beetle says, voice rising. “Henbane thought there might be treasure up here. It was her idea.”

    “I suggested it. You’re the one who clambered up there.”

    Beetle stomps a front hoof. “It was your idea!”

    “Stop,” Smokejumper says, “the both of you. I don’t care whose idea it was. Can you get down from there?”

    “Yes,” Beetle says, not moving.

    Smokejumper’s long tail flicks, cat-like, in irritation. “Do you need help?”

    “No,” Beetle says, still not moving.

    Even from here, he can see the realization dawn in the heraldic’s gaze. “Beetle,” they say, warningly. “Get down.”

    “But there really is something in there,” Beetle whines.

    “It’s probably some rusty knife,” Henbane says, scuffing some mud off one of her hooves. Pip’s pointed little face is poking out of its pouch. “Who would put something good up there?”

    Beetle bristles. “The next time I see a puddle of nasty, sticky mud I’m going to shove you in it, you hear me?”

    Henbane flicks an ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

    Smokejumper sighs. “Sometimes I think you two shouldn’t adventure together.”

    Henbane jolts. “No, no. Don’t say that! We’re the perfect team.”

    Smokejumper turns to give her a withering glance, and Beetle jumps at the opportunity, wheeling back around to shove his head back into the crevice. He can hear Henbane’s startled laughter behind him, muffling Smokejumper’s raspy, raised voice, and he ignores both in favor of stretching for the item he knows is back here.

    Finally, finally, he grasps it between his lips and pulls back, triumphant.

    “What is it?” he says, voice muffled. “What is it?”

    Henbane snickers. “It’s a bone.”

    Beetle drops it, watching it clatter to the cavern floor far beneath him. “Mud,” he says to Henbane when he spots the pale yellow-white sliver of bone. “Sticky. Nasty. Mud.”

    Smokejumper sighs. “Henbane, will you wait for us.”

    “Uh,” Henbane says. “Sure.”

    Silence.

    “In the other chamber?”

    “Oh!” Henbane flattens her ears. “Right. Sorry.”

    Beetle and Smokejumper watch her go. When Smokejumper turns their gaze onto him, he shrinks in on himself.

    “Come down,” they say. Beetle complies, scampering down the tricky path as quickly as he dares. When he sets all four hooves onto the chamber floor, Brimstone comes over to sniff his legs, huff a wolfy sigh, and pad away to throw himself down onto the dungeon floor.

    “Sorry, Smoke,” Beetle murmurs, ducking his head. “I won’t do it again.”

    “Please.” Smokejumper’s tail flicks again. “Spare me your lies. We both know it will happen again.”

    Beetle ducks his head even further, tail swishing. “It really was Henbane’s idea.”

    “That doesn’t mean you need to go alone with it,” Smokejumper tells him. “Look at me.”

    He lifts his head, meeting the gaze of his mentor. Their eyes are brown, deep and rich like damp soil, and so full of life that it makes him dizzy. Smokejumper has lived his years twice over, and yet they are as fit and as full of fire as their favorite level of the dungeons. He hopes that he is the same, down the line. With his own young, frustrating adventurers to teach.

    “I love your curiosity, Beetle,” they tell him. “It’s invaluable, and the rewards for it will be great. We are all curious, in a way. That’s what brings us from the surface into the buried kingdom. But you,” they snort, “your streak of curiosity is a lot stronger than most.”

    Beetle blinks. “And that’s… a good thing? You make it sound like it’s bad.”

    “It’s both,” his mentor admits. “You’re going to get into a world of trouble with it. But I don’t want you to temper it.”

    “You don’t?”

    “No. But I want you to learn to rely on your teammates. You’re not a loner, Beetle. You have so many other adventurers to back you up. Knots and Duskwalker. Henbane. Me and Halftruth. But you can’t just jump blindly when you’re interested in things. You need to talk it through with us, first. So that we know how to pull you out if it goes badly.”

    Beetle blinks at them. “You’re not mad at me?”

    Smokejumper tilts their head. “A little,” they admit. “But I’ve always like that facet of you, Beetle. You’re going to discover new ground, with it. Parts of the dungeon I’ve never seen before. Your curiosity is going to make you a well-known adventurer someday.” They touch his forehead with their nose. “I just know it.”