The shadow reached with ebon fingers, clawing, stretching, seizing. Now Wolf was theirs, cloaked in darkness, blinking into the wretched maw of oblivion. Gone was the soft gleam of mushrooms, the burning lanterns and torches left by other adventurers. Bewildered and alone, Wolf had investigated too far off the known path; abandoning sense for adventure, caution for recklessness. His heart picked up a wild staccato, hammering against the cage of his chest, drumming swiftly in his ears. Even with the (rather dumb) courage that had been his sword and shield, Wolf was beginning to worry.

Each step, uncommonly tentative for the heavy-handed courser, was made with thought that he rarely displayed, his weight shifted cautiously as he navigated the unending darkness. Time waxed and waned around him, drawing out into an unreachable, untenable thing until it felt like both hours and minutes had passed simultaneously. Silence, thick and almost tangible, was shattered uncomfortably by his ragged breath and the strike of his hooves upon stone. It felt slick beneath him, a soft squelch accompanying each hoof-fall as the moss gave way.

Still, the intoxicating mix of nervousness and excitement pulsed through his veins, thrumming with adrenalin. Was there loot awaiting him? Or perhaps some undiscovered mystery he could weave into a story upon his return?

So wrapped up in his thoughts and blinded by the darkness, Wolf failed to spot the strange mound before him, not until one hoof broke through the surface with a sound like the tearing of paper and suddenly the silence was filled with a deafening buzz.

He yelped, loudly, suddenly, staggering back as he yanked his leg from the nest. It was already too late. They erupted from the mound, skittering up his leg, flying around his face. Cave bugs. They were everywhere – on his face, in his hair, crawling all over him like a living, seething blanket.

Dipping his head, he pawed madly at his face, trying to rub them away. Hooves ringing out on stone, he stumbled forward into the inky eye of darkness, shaking his head, slashing his tail. Light blossomed through the corridor, and he staggered towards it. Opening up, the cavern was dotted with gleaming mushrooms and glowing worms and finally Wolf could see. The bugs were swarming him, a writhing cloud filling the air with sharp sound.

Thinking had never been Wolf’s strong suit but as the splash of water beneath his hooves permeated the low din of flies, he found himself wading hurriedly into a pool, sinking gratefully into the water. Hundreds of bugs caught in the splash dotted the rippling water and, as he dunked his head until the surface, the cloud of them finally dissipated.

His breath shattered through his lungs, his heart racing like a rabbit and suddenly Wolf felt foolish. “Idiot,” he growled aloud, staring at the disappearing swarm as the gentle kiss of cold waters soothed the itchy feeling of a million tiny legs and wings. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, he shook his head, the droplets of water spraying as his locks spun. Suddenly a laugh, reckless and a little bit hysterical, bubbled from his throat. “Never doing that again,” he said to the silence, pushing through the small cavern lake until his hooves hit solid ground and the water cascaded from his body in gentle torrent.

Now, what was the route back?