The smoke dissipated shortly after Citrine entered the dungeon, leaving her a little panicked. There was nothing but her and the sound of her hooves as they clacked against the stone floor. But she'd made it through the first step. She had started her first adventure. 

The farther she walked down the narrow tunnel, the more greenery began to pop up. Determined vines slithered through the cracks in the stone. Bushy weeds grew up from between the cobblestone. The occassional mysterious flower bloomed, shedding an eerie pale light across the old stone. In fast, the farther she walked, the older the stone seemed to get. That little fact took her attention and pushed some of her fear to the back of her mind. She began to look closer at the walls, and suddenly noticed that what she had thought were just natural veins of color in the stone was in fact dye! Someone had painted pictures on the wall! 

She stopped, moving her face so close to the wall she almost bumped noses with it. The paint made little coursers, running in a herd. Or at least, she thought they were coursers? But she'd never seen a courser shaped quite like that. The proportions were all wrong, but maybe ancient artists hadn't been very good at depicting them? She imagined some horse in the olden days, before the Kingdom had fallen, standing here and diligently creating a mural of sorts. Had there been bands of heroes then, too? Is that what inspired the artist? 

She imagined herself painted in a mural, a mighty adventurer of the future. Citrine the Brave! 

The adrenaline it gave her was enough to keep her diving farther into the dungeon.