Frosting stared down at the ground, feeling the subtle tremors beneath his hooves. It wasn’t his first trip into the depths, this would go just fine. As it usually does. He hadn’t screamed, hadn’t exalted himself, he was just accepting of the situation. His calm, melancholic pace had been disrupted when the floor gave way beneath him without warning, but he showed no signs of any added adrenaline to the low blood sugar he was already trotting on. ‘Predictable’, he thought, almost amused, his ears twitching as he registered the sharp metal points gleaming beneath him. But Frosting didn’t panic as for that was energy he didn’t have to waste. His body reacted with the quiet instinct he had honed in his so far short life. Maybe even shorter now as he stares at his end right under his nose. He flared out his legs, spreading his weight as much as possible. He looked up and there was his fella. With the worried look on his small, contorted snot Frosting couldn’t help but feel a necessity to get back up and fix that expression. But with the slight shift on his body the spikes jutted toward him, their sharpness was undeniable. With a soft grunt of effort, he kicked out his legs, pushing against the spikes beneath him and launching himself toward the wall. Hanging halfway down the pit, Frosting took a deep breath. The ledge he clung to was narrow, crumbling with each slight movement, but it would have to do. He decided to give in some effort so he grit his teeth and with a strong enough momentum he leaped out of the hole, rolling onto the solid ground above. For a moment, he lay there, chest heaving slightly, though his eyes remained calm, half-lidded in their usual melancholic state. ‘Not so bad, not so bad.’ He thought to himself. And the dragon quickly scurried his way towards Frosting and enveloped his muzzle, with his warm pre heated body. “Me too, me too.” Frosting spoke as he snuggled with him.