Each of them stood staring at the massive skeleton. Its sprawling limbs of elongated bone stretched too far, its torso just as long and horrifyingly narrow. Cracks and fractures littered the ribs and one arm was twisted in a way that even the equine knew no humanoid creature could bend. What cloth had covered the remains had long decayed with no metal armor or leather remanents. It was curled within the room reminiscent of a sobbing babe with only one difference: its enormous skull lay facing the ceiling, mouth agape in a silenced scream or plea. Between its brows was the hilt of a greatsword its grip tattered from years of abandonment. The three Dungeon Coursers stood in this final resting place of an unknown giant.

        "What manner of creature is this?" Rustica whispered, her dorsal prickled and itchy.

        "I have no idea..." Ansgrim murmured in response. The fleabitten gray inched closer, his reinforced leather strappings and confer seemingly groaning in protest. "These bones have been here... I can't really say, but I'd wager as long as this dungeon has been here."

        Rustica visibly shivered and her stomach clenched. For a moment she was reminded of the newfound life growing inside her. Thankfully, she was not showing, so early that even her brother's overbearance hadn't noticed. "I don't like it here. Feels... haunted."

        Rotharde humphed in response, waltzing closer toward the skeleton without fear. Ansgrim and Rustica watched him, their breaths stilled in their lungs, and a tension coiling their bodies. The eldest of the group, not by much, he had become their defacto leader. When the three had been discussing their campaign in the more dangerous tunnels of the dungeon, Rotharde's experience was beyond the other two. It was a unanimous agreement that his call would be the one heeded when it came down to decision-making. The burden wasn't light upon his shoulders either. A glance at the others proved that the apprehension in the air was their palpable fear. Rustica's eyes were wide despite her stoic expression, those bronze eyes of hers flitted with a frantic sweep that was reminiscent of when they'd been children and she knew that their pa would find out they had been disobedient.

        Ansgrim, on the other hand, didn't hide his terror as completely Rotharde's sister. His knees shook in small tremors, white crescents visible along the corners of his copper eyes. Rotharde knew he had to get these two out of here if they were to keep their wits about them - and they needed them for whatever may still lay ahead of them.

        Turning back to the massive cleaver driven into the giant's skull, Rotharde climbed into the enormous ribcage and carefully stepped over each arching rib.

        "What are you doing?" Rustica's voice squeaked to betray her anxiety.

        "Just wanna see if I can get this out." Rotharde's tone was matter-of-fact as if he were making boring small talk.

        "Careful," Ansgrim whispered, his hooves clacking on the stone as he inched closer to Rustica.

        The owl that seemed to follow the sooty bay wherever he went swooped from the shadows above, startling the two cowering equines. Its talons gripped upon the old bones, slipping once but remaining perched above Rotharde's head. Again it leapt into the air and silently flew until it landed upon the tang of the greatsword. The owl's large eyes blinked then turned towards the approaching sooty bay, locking eyes. For a moment Rotharde paused, a hoof hovering in the air as he stared back at the bird of prey that refused to leave his side. Things were quiet until the owl hooted at him, haunting the absolute silence with the sound. Turning around on the hilt, the bird tilted its head towards its chosen master as if to say, "What are you afraid of?"

        A curt nod was returned from the bay stallion and his pace quickened towards the sword. Clambering onto the jaw, hooves planted squarely into the agape maw of the skull, Rotharde clamped his teeth around the hilt. Dust and bitter, spoiled leather assaulted his tongue but he refused to retreat, rather he sank his teeth in more and pulled. It was awkward, the skull shifting with the attempts rather than fighting back. Behind him, Ansgrim and Rustica shared a look, before also scrambling to come to their fellow's aid. They both came abreast, however they could as they stood awkwardly over the grave of the giant.

        "Ans, put your weight on the skull." He watched as Rustica reared up and planted her hooves onto the massive skull and, miraculously, it held. She steadied a moment as Rotharde continued to pull, testing to see if the bone would crumble under her weight, but somehow these ancient fossils held true. Ansgrim followed, again pausing to see if the skull would give. Still, it remained intact without even a creak of protest.

        "Alright, together now," Rotharde said, returning his grip upon the hilt.

        "Three, two, one... pull!" Ansgrim and Rustica threw their bodies into the skull to keep it from moving as Rotharde pulled. Would they be so lucky to get a prize so soon?