Thiel had not been fully prepared for the darkness, the dampness, the skittering of crawling things, the smell of death and decay. Most of all, he had not been prepared for the stillness. Up on the surface, there was always a breath of air, or at least the promise of one. Down here in the subterranean Dungeon, enclosed on all sides, there was no movement, nowhere for the wind to whisper. It was...unsettling.

For all that Amalthea had perhaps a year on him, and Oberon a handful, they seemed far more at ease in the Dungeon than he could have imagined. Not that they were careless—no, they were wary and watchul as he had heard all adventurers must be, but they were calm and confident in their bearing, as if nothing could surprise them. 

The wisp, Fei, darted ahead, just far enough to illuminate potential obstacles and pitfalls, and Thiel was glad of that, too. His lantern was well and good, but the wisp had a mind of its own, and could go places no lantern could. 

Oberon sniffed the air, pausing. The others drew to a halt just behind him. "Water," he reported, nostrils flaring. 

"Look," said Amalthea, nodding towards a wet gleam as Fei bobbed. The wisp circled, perhaps trying to find the source, and revealed a thin line of water, channeled between the stone bricks. The moss coating the place made it difficult to pick up the trail, though, at least until Thiel thought to step in it, to see which side of his hoof it pooled on. 

"This way," he said, jerking his head to the right. Oberon looked down at Thiel's wet hoof and grunted. 

"That means 'good job,'" Amalthea told Thiel in a loud whisper as the big grey trotted down the corridor. Oberon didn't bother to reply. Instead, he flicked his tail at her, making her snort with laughter. 

They followed the trickle until they came to a set of three short steps. Fei went first, its light swallowed by the cavernous room; Oberon was next, navigating the stairs carefully. They were not made for horses, but he made do, splashing down on the other side. He sniffed the water as Fei spiraled down to help, and snorted. 

"It's safe enough," he called back. 

"Go on, then," Amalthea urged Thiel. With only a slight hesitation, he, too, went up the steps, and then back down, as Oberon sloshed further into the room. 

Both males were examining one of the paintings on the wall by the time Amalthea joined them. The room was enormous, filled with water; the white color of the flooring argued some kind of limestone, although it was far smoother than any limestone Thiel had seen. He lowered his head, sniffing at the water. It smelled clean and pure, excepting the dirt they'd brought with them, and he had to pause to wonder how it was so clean. 

"We should drink our fill before we move on," Amalthea suggested. "It seems safe enough. I wonder where the source is?"