Kestrel's stomach roars in the empty cool air, the noise bouncing off the walls and echoing to the depths of the vast cavern. She was far from the refueling Charter station several lengths to the south of her position, but that was planned, her task today was to take the far high road nearest to the the surface with the intent to rest once she had entered the Surface town. The road had been reported as housing tracks of a creature that was only seen in the second levels and below, so a danger to the softer bellied Coursers that took it for visitations, mercantile purposes, and other travelers such as the Delvers.

Sweeping the area for any dangers, her eyes and ears swiveling to catch each and every subtle movement and sound that may be out of place in the space; checking for hidden stone creatures, hanging bloodthirsty bats, prowling dogs, crags, unstable flooring, or the like. She eventually settles for a brief stop where she stood, stomach visible rumbling around the curve of her taut muscled ribecage; her back pressed up against the cavern wall, the surface slick with leaking wall and cold to the touch.

Shifting her trunk to reach the saddlebags, the leather surface scuffed and oiled against the random moist of the air as well as unexpected water fall, she snuffles her velvety snout into the pouch for a snack. Her favorite having been prepared and packed by her younger sibling Merlin not that many hours prior, the bay left the confines of their home approximately 9 hours or so past. Kestrel had pressed a soft kiss to their forehead with gratitude and love in passing their shuffling hooves on the food, she had been busy with other preparations at the time and hadn't gotten to serving herself anything.

The carrots were still crisp, the bread nutty and full of thick oats, the hint of honey on her tongue, the cheese smooth and creamy, and an unsliced apple that squelched as she crunched into the crisp flesh. It wasn't the most filling meal, wishing for sturdy and large quantities and to her stomach's constant protest, but it would provide her the necessary nutrients and sugars to continue the long trek.

Tossing the meal back into her maw, chewing with efficient quick bites, she packs it all back into her pouch; wrapped with a length of beewax coated fabric in order to eliminate the smell, crumbs, and if any moist was left in the scraps then it would keep it from seeping into the other tools and parchment in her saddlebag.