"Thank God, Logue. Please, take them," Monaco groaned, grabbing Tamsin by the shoulders and shoving them towards the newcomer. The ranger turned and strode away without looking back, although he did wave a hand over his head in acknowledgement, as Tamsin cheerily called out a goodbye.

Monaco was away and around the corner in a heartbeat, his footsteps already a whisper, disappearing long before that.

Nudging Tamsin with an elbow, Logue asked, "Whatcha do to him?"

Confused, Tamsin turned to the older adventurer, cocking his head. "Monaco? Nah, we were just hanging out. Showed me how to harvest the silk from the gloomstalker den." Reaching down to the satchel on his hip, he swivelled it so it sat on his front, opening it up for Logue to peer inside. "Neat, huh?"

Logue nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah, it's pretty cool."

"Actually, I was going to ask Monaco to head to the moor with me. Needa collect some supplies from there for the others."

Although he nodded his agreement, turning the way that would lead them in that direction, where the heaviness of level 2 led into level 3, Logue still asked. "Your friends can't come with you?"

Again, Tamsin's smiled was a little bemused, but they answered anyway. "Oh, nah. Just wanna find this stuff for them so that they don't have to, you know?"

Logue hummed his understanding, pushing aside a long hanging curtain of vines that shielded a doorway, and together they stepped out into the moor. The earth sunk a little underfoot, his boots cushioned by verdant decay.

Neat.

Collecting what Tamsin had come for wasn't so difficult. Logue was an easy companion. Seemed interested in Tamsin's stories and Tamsin was equally interested in his. Logue just seemed like he got it down here. Of course, Tamsin was sure the others of the guild did too, but Tamsin could never imagine himself as Terrence or Crispin, Logue though. Yeah, maybe he could do that.

The bat that had started following him since his adventure with Bug, Frel and Smudge initially rose from Tamsin's pack to flutter overhead. Tamsin watched them skim from tree to tree, trying out branches for appropriate perches, before realising Tamsin was not stopping, and having to readjust to keep ahead.

Eventually, Musca returned with a wobbly flutter, hanging himself upside down on the pack of Tamsin's pack. Tamsin chuckled a little, following Logue as the adventurer pointed off a ways, indicating a place he knew where the herbs Tamsin was looking for grew.

They got distracted part-way. Wandering off from the path when a glint of something in the underbrush seemed out of place. The moor was not a shiny place. Amongst a tangle of heather, Tamsin drew out an amulet, tarnished in places, a little beat up, but the crest on the front was fairly clear.

It looked, weirdly, like the embroidery piece his mumma used to have hanging above the door. Well, maybe it was still there… Tamsin hadn't been back to the surface in a while. Standing, Tamsin rubbed their thumb over the metal, wiping away some dirt. It had no chain, broken off, perhaps the reason it was lying here. Or maybe the leather had rotted away and become one with the bog a long time ago.

"Huh, weird."

Tamsin tossed the battered amulet over his shoulder, and continued on, catching up to Logue.