Before Baybette was old enough to set out on his own, his mother would warn him of the dungeons shadows; tell him to never walk in the darkness, always carry a light.

The edge of a pit teases him now, only inches from his hooves, and he can find nothing to fear in its yawning, empty, darkness. Who knows what could be lying in wait down there, but all he can think about is the chance it may be quiet. Perhaps this is one cavern that generations of coursers havent already picked through.

This opening promises him solitude, free from the thoughts that hound him even—especially—so far below the surface. It's a steep grade down, steeper than he's ever tried to walk, but it may be worth it; worth the chance to dissappear down here. Fitting, in a way, since he was fated to be here, wandering these caves endlessly until his dying breath.

"Baybette?"

He hadn't noticed the encroaching torchlight, and the uncharacteristically hesitant voice of his party member brings him to startle, head lifting to find her standing just a few feet behind him. The lantern clipped to her leather armor makes her difficult to see after so long spent staring into darkness.

"Yes?" He sounds distracted, still, because he is. The shade of the unknown entrance clinking to his mind like cobweb. He's almost angry she disturbed him.

"Are you alright?" Treewalker's head bobs as she takes a few steps closer, long tail sweeping up rock-dust in her wake. "Do you see something?"

The senior knight is surely expecting a creature of some sort to have caught his attention. He looks back into the pit, and finds that it seems to swallow all of the light Treewalker brought with her, as if it would douse the lantern she carries if she only came close enough. He turns to her again, seeing only a hint of her eyes through the glare of the flame.

"No." He snorts, then shakes his head, pulling himself away from the edge of the opening despite the faint mourning behind his breastbone. "Just more cave. We can keep going."

Treewalker doesn't say anything until he's reached her side, and then she only ushers him forward by curling her tail behind him, as if to herd him away from the place.


"We'll stop at the next checkpoint." She's all hard-edged confidence again, gone is the soft concern from just a few minutes prior. "After that, we'll take the valley exit and stock up on supplies. Zuriel should be happy with what we've found so far, and we can return the way we came."

"Right." Baybette confirms, though he's only half-listening. The hole in the cave floor still tugs at him, calling like a mother would to a wayward foal; longing and sorrowful and possessive.