Nightshade awkwardly holds her head high as she struggles to push through the water, even though she doesn’t really have to; it’s already just about up to Beryl’s withers, and she is a much shorter horse than Nightshade, but she has this sinking feeling it’s only going to get higher before her adventuring party makes it through this dank, horrible cistern. Artemis clings tightly to the grullo Courser’s back; the little drake has buried her green snout as deeply into Nightshade’s dark mane as possible, and she doesn’t seem to have any intent to remove herself from it any time soon. Not that the mare can really blame her… the conditions are harsh enough to shut even the constantly bickering brothers up. At least the end of the cistern is in sight now… she thinks…

Falcon wants nothing more than to curse under his breath as he wades through the deep water, but given he could be fully submerged at a moment’s notice simply by taking one wrong step, he figures it’d be best to keep his mouth pressed firmly shut. Naturally, Kasios is no help whatsoever; despite the osprey being perfectly capable of flying, she’d rather nestle between his shoulders. To be fair, being a bird and flying down here would most likely be about as awful as navigating the cistern as a horse, but… she’s a sea hawk, for crying out loud!
“If this goes on for much longer, I swear to any gods out there…” The flaxen stallion grumbles, no longer able to contain his ire.

“Don’t worry, I can see the exit!” Nightshade reassures him from up ahead. “At least, I’m pretty sure I can…”

Beryl snorts with annoyance, both at the grullo mare’s unhelpful information, and at the mimic constantly bumping against her own hindquarters as it bobs through the water. She knows Pyrite can somehow swim faster than any of the horses in the team, so the damned thing is clearly doing that on purpose, and it’s really starting to get on their nerves. “The vote of confidence is very comforting, thank you.”

“She’s right, Beryl,” Harrier confirms wearily, and the actual competent horse backing Nightshade up is more than enough to give the champagne Courser some small amount of relief. “Not too much further now.”

“Thank you, Harrier,” they pant, feeling the trek through the water begin to wear her down.

Harrier flicks his two-toned tail at the smaller mare in acknowledgement of her thanks, while intentionally ignoring how Nightshade had immediately deflated. If the lanky Courser can’t muster a shred of confidence even when she’s right, it’s not his job to coddle her about it. It’s bad enough that he has to babysit Falcon, he’s not taking on some random lost soul alongside his little brother. At least Beryl doesn’t seem to need that guidance as much, but it’s still clear this isn’t their element. He tunes out his disgruntled teammates, in favour of giving his full attention to his surroundings; tall columns are scattered across the cistern like a forest of dead trees, and the splashing of the horses as they travel through the water echoes in an almost haunting way. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the bay stallion almost thinks it’s serene; at least, until Dusk begins fluttering frantically around his face, squeaking out an incessant alarm.

“Something’s wrong,” Harrier warns past the frenzied squeaking of his bat, and Nightshade freezes in place against her better judgement, desperately scanning the cistern for whatever is making Dusk freak out. She hears it long before she sees it, a loud splash in the dark; far too loud. But her blood runs cold when she spots it only a second later, something large emerging from the depths, and from here, it almost looks like it’s one with the water; meaning the quartet of horses are all well out of their depths.

“Whatever that is, we don’t stand a chance…” Nightshade murmurs, before she’s very harshly jolted into moving again by Beryl’s mimic ramming against her hindquarters; something Artemis doesn’t appreciate very much, judging by the tiny claws digging into her sides.

“Whatever it is, it probably can’t follow us out of the water,” Beryl deduces, and the shorter mare scrambles to pick up her pace, deep waters be damned. “We need to get moving!”
Falcon’s ears flick nervously. If the water is the not so distant beast’s domain, can they really outrun it? Wouldn’t it be better to take their chances with a fight? “And you really think getting to the other side before it reaches us is more likely?!”

“It’s the option that gives us the best chances of not dying, you moron,” Harrier snaps at him, with a mix of fear and indignance. “Get a move on!”

Apparently inspired by his brother’s harsh pep talk, the flaxen Courser gives a quick nod, before awkwardly kicking himself into gear, while his bird of prey is startled into taking flight; he’s hindered only by the sheer amount of water around him, an experience Beryl is all too familiar with.

“What happens if we don’t make it?” Nightshade asks with a tremble in her voice, echoing the nasty thoughts plaguing the back of the champagne mare’s mind.
“Don’t think about it,” Beryl snaps at her without so much as looking at her, their ears pinned back as they stare at the corridor ahead. Dry land had never felt more appealing than it did right now…

With Dusk now clinging to his neck, Harrier forces himself through the water, ever aware of the beast drawing near; the loudest of its splashing has ceased, but the tobiano Courser can still hear it getting closer, and he hasn’t got a clue what any of them will do if it manages to catch up. 

“Just keep going!” He calls to the horses behind him, not daring to waste any time by looking back at them. “We have to make it!”

Not a single one of them has anything to say to that, his party’s only reply being their splashing growing more intense, more frantic. Despite the circumstances… Harrier hopes it’s not because they can tell he’s terrified.