Nightwing grinds his teeth on the leather wrapping covering the handle of the pestle, its dry and polished length squeaking with each forced movement to its pair. A sharp and distinctly herbal scent wafts into the air, cutting the smell of dank Dungeon water and old dung, and he tosses a loose strand of curling dark mane out of his face. They had paused for the rest of the evening with singed hair and flesh, the wounds on their biggest companion, Peregrine, pulled taut and weeping from the increased movement they had undergone in their last challenge. It was up to him to prep and prepare the healing herbs so it may erase the other's exhausation and pain.

Grind. Grind. Tap. Splash, a slosh of oil against the rim of the mortar as the Roan adds a cooling and fever reducing agent to the mixture. It was bonding well, the glimmer of blue Wisplight from Kestrel's pet just enough of a 'natural' light source to allow him to see the inconsistences in his grinding and correct them with a few more purposeful swipes of the pestle. His concentration solely focused on his medicine making and the occasional glance to the littered marks across Liver Chestnut flesh, calculating the needed quantities and imagining his bandage supplies. He had only packed so much, one side of his saddle bags dedicated to the stock and the other for his true purpose, discovery and sample gathering.

Kestrel in the calmly consistent noise of the Roan's grinding begins to strike her flint, the stone sparking red and yellow, upon the gathered Dungeon debris; the grungy, old, and salt tainted wood scraps having been found on the edge of a nearby water source. She had been searching the area and next pathways for their trekking in the morning, determining more so their safety in the moment and the level of awareness they should keep overnight. The flare and black smoke of wood catching fire chokes the air coaxed along with her careful small breathes, cheeks puffing and throat scratchy with the dank smell.

"What is available for food stuffs." She groses, voice coaked in the smoke she had begun to inhale, eyes sharp and hooves tugging the packs over to her side. While she had asked them all, she knew that checking herself was the best option for an answer, especially considering the intimate air between the pair. Soft Ether hair meshing with the dark warm tones of the Liver Chestnut as the royal leans closer into his companion, likely in the only spot that would not reawaken any wounds that the large Courser had born.

Peregrine grunts low and acknowledging to her, "My packs are untouched, we have plenty meats and a small stock of cheese. And I believe then is a package of dried soup in the inner pocket, wrapped in the water resistant leather." He glows in the twin lights, painted in red and blue with the overhanging of the stone walls around them shadowing his eyes, although apparent it was where his eyes remained locked. Dark clashing with pale eyes, Aquilo's neck stretched taut up to the other, long slender legs curled underneath the slight Courser frame.

"I have some of the nut packed sweetcake remaining, as well." Aquilo offers with a small smile, wispy mane curling sweetly around his long face and pretty eyelashes framing his pale eyes.

Kestrel whistles and mouth immediately grows wet with her appreciation, they had been saving the last cakes for something... more. But the last few days and challenges had been wearing on them all, Peregrine the most and what was a better enticement from the Ether than to give his admirer the last of the honey rich treat?

"I wouldn't turn down the offer." The rumbling gravel of Peregrine's voice is echoed by a whoop from Kestrel and a few confused blinks from Nightwing, his hooves smearing ointment on sterilized long stripes of bandages.

"Whatever that was decided, Peregrine will not be participating in the nightly chores, he will be resting." Nightwing cuts through the excitment with a sharpness and a glance at Aquilo before pinning them on the warrior.

Peregrine chuckles, having gone to move to grab the supplies and start the meal of the evening, "Aye, Aye, Healer." He was quite used to the whims and wills of Healers, their sharp gazes and sharper tongues, and even if he wouldn't mention it to any of them... He very much would rather lay by the fireside than move anyways.

Kestrel tosses her head side to side, as if in memory of having a longer mane to display her emotions, and sighs deep and loud as if to complain, "Oh alright, Ill do it! You will have to put up with a mediocre dinner though." She remarks with sarcasm, a hint of playful flame light in her eyes and curls in her lips.

Aquilo giggles at her antics and resettles against Peregrine's side, having grown more and more comfortable in allowing the other two to see this... soft side of himself over the weeks spent fighting alongside them. He will miss it sorely once he is called back home, but who wouldn't miss being free to be themselves with no harsh or disgusted looks.

As the Bay unwraps their meal and begins to stir the dried and preserved food stuffs into their pot, placed high and boiling over the small campfire. A growing rumble within the ground begins to tease at the edge of their senses until it was undeniable that either a stone fall or earthquake was shifting the contents of the Dungeon. Kestrel stills in her movements, the others quickly following her example as they recognize the concern flashing across her warm face and steeling in her bend over form.

"...Kestrel?" Nightwing whispers admist the noise, the Scholar pausing his efforts in binding Peregrine's wounds and applying medicine.

She raises a hoof and in the same moment her noise, a certain wetness had begun to tease her sensitive nose as it was carried on a burst of Dungeon air, and she flares her nostrils to take it in fully. The rumbling, grinding of stone on stone, crunching of anything softer than stone as it mets its destroyer, and then rushing of water along with freed air, twitches in her tense ears.

"... Something collapsed. I can hear free flowing water where it had been only barely moving... We might be in a zone that is quickly to be flooded. Pack up." She bites out, teethed clamped around leather and metal instruments in her haste to gather their belongings.

The rest jump up in their own time, scrapping gear into saddle bags and she flips herself around to address the far wall; the same pathway that had led into a nearby water source and hopefully what would take the released deluge rather than their dry campsite.

"Steady!" Nightwing bites from behind her, holding Peregrine up with a muscular shoulder and wedging his wide head underneath the other's. It was in this moment that Kestrel could appreciate the rarely acknowledged book lugging frame the Blue Roan had on his form.

"I suppose this would be a good moment to ask if everyone can swim... Wouldn't it be?" Kestrel tries to joke, her voice wavering just enough to raise the hackles on the rest of the party.