Oberon grumbled, bumping his head against the ceiling with a faint clank. Unlike Amalthea, his armor was dull steel, scarred by years of use—and by the occasional collision with overhead obstacles. If she had been the type to giggle, Oberon would have cast her a withering look, no matter how exalted the blood in her veins nor how long his family had served hers. Thankfully for the both of them, she was not. Rather, she waited patiently as the big grey shook his head to ensure his chanfron had not been knocked out of place by the collision.

Fei, the wisp that accompanied Amalthea wherever she went, waking or sleeping, bobbed as impatiently as its mistress was patient, eager to forge ahead. Its flickering blue light served the Coursers far better than a lantern, for Fei could not be dropped nor extinguished, and had the added benefit of being intelligent enough to go where light was most needed. No ordinary lantern would flit ahead just far enough to illuminate the path and any potential pitfalls might lie in wait.

The air here smelled strangely green and fresh, a welcome change from the fetid air of the Dungeon, but Amalthea couldn't help but wonder at the cause. A breach to the surface, perhaps? 

Oberon grunted, stepping over a dead vine where it lay, rootlets still clinging to the cracks between the stone bricks. "Fresh air," he commented, although Amalthea knew him better than to mistake the observation for a statement of the obvious. It was rare for Oberon to ask things outright; instead, he would come at the topic obliquely, leaving it to others to infer the question from his tone.

"I suppose we'll find out the source in due time," she answered, skipping neatly over a pile of rubble. The Dungeon here seemed in particularly bad disrepair, the floor uneven where the earth had shifted, breaking apart the stone bricks and leaving fissures in the walkways. Their footsteps echoed off the broken stones, the only sign of life aside from the scuttling of rats and lesser creatures, scurrying to hide from the interlopers. Fei paused at the corner, white-blue light dancing as it spun in circles, a clear indication that they had a decision to make ahead.

A tall archway, framed by white granite, led into a room that must be so vast that Fei's light barely illuminated the floor. At the edges of the light it cast, they could make out what appeared to be a fall of dead leaves.

"Leaves?" Amalthea was puzzled. There were no trees in the Dungeon. Not living ones, at any rate, and the ones that were dead had died long ago, and their leaves turned to dust.

Oberon scraped his iron shoes against the stones, striking sparks. He didn't say a word; he knew Amalthea would go in, whether he objected or not. And, truth be told, he was curious. 

"Fei, if you would?" The wisp zipped away, darting back and forth to illuminate the greatest area, however briefly. More dead leaves appeared, and roots. Dozens of roots; roots as thick around as one of Oberon's immense hooves, roots that were no wider than the cording that the Wizard used to tie its scrolls, all tangled together as they clawed their way across the floor, even crawling up the walls. In some places they were so thick, so strong, that they had begun to crush the stones beneath, allowing them to dig deeper. 

All those roots led to a tree of immense proportions. Fei's light illuminated not even a quarter of its circumference, the bark gnarled and sickly grey-white in patches, as if it were diseased. The wisp bounced from side to side in indecision before shooting up, whirling around the trunk. Up, up, up...At last, as the Coursers craned their necks to keep track of the wisp, they saw the beginning of branches, some of which looked big enough for Amalthea to stand on comfortably. 

A breeze tugged at Amalthea's mane, and she twitched, tossing her head. The air in the Dungeon was usually dead; it was rare to feel a breeze, let alone one as lively as this one. It whirled around them, stirring the leaves into a rustling cloud, before abandoning them to whisk elsewhere. They could mark its passage by the sound of more dead leaves scraping against each other, evidence that this tree was alive, or had been alive recently. 

Fei had disappeared into the branches now, visible only by a faint glow as it darted here and there. 

"Fei!" Amalthea called, her tail swishing back and forth in agitation. The wisp arced down from somewhere high, high above, plummeting like a falling star. 

Oberon kicked at a root, and the tree suddenly shuddered, immense trunk creaking. The Coursers froze. 

"We're sorry for disturbing you," Amalthea ventured, once silence returned. The tree did not answer, and she felt rather foolish for speaking to it as if it would. Still, the Dungeon was a strange place, and nothing about the tree had—yet—set off alarm bells. It didn't hurt to be polite.

Oberon's snort notwithstanding.

A glimmer caught Amalthea's eye as she turned. Something metallic, perhaps...

"Oberon, help me pull this out," she ordered, trotting towards the axe buried halfway into one of the larger roots, its blade pocked with rust. Oberon obeyed, lumbering over to seize the haft between his teeth, just below the head. With a grunt, he pulled, shaking his head to try and wiggle it free. It had bit deep, and was stuck fast; probably why it had been left in the first place. The trunk creaked again, branches rustling overhead, and Amalthea looked about for something she could use to try and pry the blade free from the other side. A rock, a piece of brick, anything. 

Just as she stepped away to try and find something, Oberon grunted again, bracing his strong legs to put his whole body weight behind his efforts. The axe came free, sending Oberon reeling; Amalthea darted aside as the axe clattered across the floor, something black and viscous coating the sharp edge. Oberon huffed, regaining his balance—and composure. 

Fei examined the cut left behind by the axe; in the wisp's light, Amalthea could see that black stuff oozing from the cut, like...well, like blood. 

"Oberyn, could you get the healing salve from my kit, please?"

"'Tis a tree," he rumbled, but obeyed anyway, opening the flap with his lips and rummaging until he found the packet of healing salve. Carefully, Amalthea placed several bandages soaked with salve over the wound. The tree shuddered, but this time it didn't feel quite so threatening, as if the tree itself knew she was trying to help. As Amalthea wiped her lips on her side, Oberon put away the packet.

The roots of the tree shifted suddenly, far faster than any plant had a right to move, withdrawing until another doorway appeared in the wall. Oberon and Amalthea looked at each other, then at the dark opening. 

With Fei leading the way, they left the massive tree behind, leaving it to bury the axe beneath its roots.