Layal stopped again and dabbed at their flank with a rag. The dampness just… never ceased. The Courser’s side was consistently drenched, thanks to the sentient chest strapped to their back; their mimic was the St. Bernard of drooling boxes. They’d have to find a way to fix that soon.

They picked up a canter as they approached the cavern. There was a deep, spike-filled crevice not far from the entrance, and though there was a bridge built across it to stop unwary travellers from falling straight into it, Layal didn’t trust the rickety-looking structure. They brushed through the wall of hanging vines, setting the leaves rustling and vines swinging, and leapt over the short bridge.

The dimmer light took a few seconds to adjust to. There was still a paltry amount of sunlight shining through a tiny tunnel- Layal assumed it was some sort of former rabbit warren; they didn’t think a rabbit would much like to come down it now, given the eight-foot drop to the terrain below. The light glinted off their mimic’s gold trim.

“You know, I could replace you with a useful box that could hold useful things,” Layal said cheerfully to Puddle as they strode along at a loose walk.

The mimic protested, its mouth gnashing and hinges squeaking in protest.

“That’s a good point. You do make a good water source. It’s sort of like having camel powers,” Layal said, referring to the mythical desert beast.

They rounded the corner, and the light was gone. Onward and downward.