Fetch was done for the day. The dark almost pit like creatures were more than a certain sign to let go and move on to another day. What really determined what was day or night for her were little moments like these. The exhaustion that would get to her, the luck shrinking in on her, it would all feel too out of place. And it was time to close her eyes in her little corner of the dungeon. Which so happened to be any corner of the dungeon that looked safe enough. She would use the very little remaining of her luck to settle down. That is until she heard a loud thud. She turned back and saw another horse. Flaunting at the black blotches. She decided to watch, he was attacking the things ‘What are you doing?’ she questioned to herself. The other individual was wearing a cloth on the back, with reigns and.. an emblem? Could it be one of the surface dwellers? But they’re never this far away.

The battlefield was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that made Freidor’s muscles tense up. A sight to behold, bones half-buried in the mud, almost concrete like earth. An earth that had long since been stripped off flesh. Freidor could recognize them. In his books, what looked like humans. The skeletons of humans were often used to decorate some of the most intense pages. ‘Humans.’ Freidor rummaged through the pages in his head, stories and tales flashing through his mind. ‘Not all horses know but we used to be mounted by them.’ “What on earth happened here.” And before he could continue crows come shooting down. Crows? Not crows. What looked like crows from this distance circled and landed on the skeletal remains.

Freidor, stood tall, and took a slow, deliberate breath. His eyes narrowed at the distant figures. His instincts kicking in from every possible direction. "Too still," he muttered, not expecting an answer. He wouldn’t be as naïve to convince himself these were just mere birds. And the unease simmering in his chest wouldn’t let him either. They were clearly part of what he’d been looking for. He looked up at Babylon, no sign from him, no initiative either. He simply didn’t recognize these creatures either.

His tail clicked and wicked. Swinging back and forth. He needed them gone, if he wanted to search any deeper through the remains of this battle looking arena. He pawed at the ground, scraping the dirt with his hooves as his tension built. “No more waiting.” The battlefield had too many strange things lurking in its shadows for him to just stop at this, and Freidor was never one for passive observation. He etched for action. And with a snort, he charged. His powerful legs pounded against the mud, and his armor supporting him he went on a rancho through them, lunging through some of the bones and as expected they didn’t scatter like normal crows. No flutter of wings, no frantic cawing. They just watched him approach, unnerving in their stillness. He bared his teeth, ears flat against his head as he closed the distance. His muscles coiled, and with a ferocious kick, he lashed out with his hind legs at the nearest dastards. It was like kicking.. mud? Spongy but strong enough to still impact him upon connection. Freidor reeled back, nostrils flaring, eyes wide. Nothing that would stop him however. From what he’d learned, not all can be defeated through brute sheer force but certainly it would aid in getting him a passage through it all. A low growl rumbled in Freidor’s chest. He wasn’t backing down. And the crows themselves took the initiative. Before he could flinch, they were at his back. Tearing apart his armor. Entraining themselves into the crevices. Terrible, absolutely terrible. He yanked, as hard as he could. Through the bones and the supposed crows that remained. Until a siren pierced through the air. And send them flocking through and almost dissipating. Freidor huffed and puffed, the sound still ringing through his ears, and he couldn’t make sense of his direction or position anymore. Confused he kept backing away slowly while nudging his head back and forth until it settled down. And then he looked to his right.

Beside him, Fetch stood, her posture languid, almost detached. Her gaze flitted about the field, never focusing too long on anything specific. "Did the crows get you?" she echoed, voice light and airy. "Or, rather, the not crows got you?" Her words, as always, were neither a question nor an answer. Freidor sprung forward quickly spinning around but the dizziness was still in effect and instead he fell. He opened his eyes, inbetween the front legs of this horse. She stared at him, and he wasn’t sure if she even expected him to reply, or if she was just musing aloud, lost in her own world. He whistled and Babylon came down in speed to grab Fetch’s mane. And with the initial confusion Freidor shifted his body weight, his hooves grinding into the dirt, reluctant but alert, he got up.

He wasn’t sure what this horse saw—or felt—but something was odd, more than the usual.