Hazel huffs as the shadows close in around her like a suffocating blanket. Inconvenient at best, treacherous at worst. She hugs the wall, inching forward with deliberate caution. Could she call Orbel from her bag? Sure, but the poor thing was so exhausted, and Hazel couldn't bring herself to disturb it. Eventually, her nose bumps into something solid—a door. She taps around its edges with her muzzle, carefully exploring before nudging it open. A faint light trickles in through a narrow crack far above, barely illuminating the space around her.

It's a cramped room, barely spacious enough for her and perhaps a smaller courser, if they squeezed in tight. Hazel settles onto a patch of soft moss, its cool dampness seeping into her fur. She pulls out a few journals, flipping through the worn pages to pass the time. The faint light filtering from above is just enough to make out the scribbled notes and sketches.

Without realizing it, Hazel drifted off. She had a bad habit of pushing herself too hard, often neglecting her own well-being. By the time she stirred, the faint light had vanished, leaving her once again in complete darkness. Sighing, she relented, gently coaxing Orbel from its spot in her bag. The tiny blue wisp flickered to life, casting a soft, pale glow that bathed the room in a comforting light. With the space now visible, Hazel set about packing her things, preparing to move on.