Icarus woke to the uncomfortable sensation of something digging into his stomach. Eyelids fought to stayed closed if only for a few scant minutes longer to gather his strength, the musty smell of the dungeon filtering through groggy thoughts as a reminder that he stopped to rest and regain his bearings on the map after a close encounter with a particularly energetic slime. The remnants of that monster had unfortunately, and revoltingly, left dried clumps of its gelatinous body in his mane and tail. That must be what he woke to; rolling over on his tail and feeling those clumps jab him in the stomach to ruin his nap.

However, as his head lifted, he noted he hadn't rolled over in his sleep at all. The Courser's body remained tucked upright the same way he fell asleep. It took several frantic blinks to examine his surroundings. Not an enemy in sight. No rats, no bats, no slimes. Icarus shook out his head with a snort to himself, cranky from the unseen disturbance. He needed to get a move on, anyhow. Whatever.

As he stood, the culprit of discomfort became known. His saddlebag was not where he left it, now falling to the floor when no longer resting against his body, and the sound it made clinked against the stone. Icarus pawed at his lantern to light the space. With it, came a large, reflective twinkle from the saddlebag perpetrator.

It was covered from seam to seam in rocks. Glittering rocks. Each one was dark grey in color, with thousands of speckles that reflected white and metallic silver. Rocks. Rocks. Even the straps were covered in them! The thing weighed a million pounds when Icarus attempted to lift it, and no strike of hooves against the poor sack could chip off a single rock to lighten the load.

Icarus needed a long dip in an icy lake after returning from that trip, lugging a near-empty saddlebag out of that dungeon. He swore he could hear soft, bell-like tittering following him the whole way to the surface.