Peregrine trots ahead from his charge, Aquilo, into the next room and presses his dark velvety snout low to the ground as he take heavy sniffs looking for any signs of particularly ordorous creatures that may take this area as a den or at the very least frequent the depths. Dust clouds waft into the air as he disturbs it with hoof and blasts of exhaled air born from wide nostrils. Thick scraggly and shaggy dark mane flops against his forehead and down the sides of his chiseled cheeks and jawline, the uneven cut of one that spend too much time in the brush of the surface and sparring with other Coursers.

Perhaps his time spent too long underneath the beating heat of the suns were what caused the darker hue of coat, burnt from shoulder to hip like the dust of coal and charcoal found often littering the scrolls of Aquilo's art room.

Eyeing the unsure swirling along the tops of the dust found covering the room, stone smooth and worn like it had once been a home for another Courser and its herd, he tried to wrack his memories for what this could mean. Failing that, but of course given he was meant to track and hunt down other Coursers and various larger prey such as deer, he turned to his ward a few paces behind. The shimmering pale coloration like the glow of the crystals embedded in the Dungeon walls, almost as if there were magic surging throughout each hair or even born from the spirit that resided within the royal.

"Aquilo. This pattern is different than I have ever seen. Do you know what it could be?" He shifts his large scarred body to the side to expose the crystal light pouring from the sides of the walls and the shimmer of metallic silvered hoofs of Aquilo.

Aquilo hums intrigued by the observation, his light steps gliding across the stone as if he were to take off into the skies at any point, and he approaches. Unafraid to press his noble body against his own, the faint body memory of the whippings he would receive anytime that the other had done so in the presence of servants or forbid the keen eyes of the Lords, hung in the back of his mind. He was of sturdy body and mind, used to the lashes over his time, and yet it still linged within his pysche like a warning that this was all he was ever going to get from their friendship. That he should be grateful that he was allowed in the royal's aura let alone be a 'playmate'. Not that he ever told Aquilo that was what he got for the priviledge of being his.

"This is quite unusual, almost like when a bird flaps their wings and disturbs the dirt piles on the far end of Aether. I do not know know of any particular bird-like mutations within the Cave breeds, but maybe it was the flight of bats?" Aquilo offers, silver eyes turned down upon the patterns still.

A heavy breath, spilling from his wide mouth, tickles the long wavy mane folded over Aquilo's neck and he squeezes his eyes closed to savor the gentle wafting of scent from the royal's body oils. Rich and light florals, milk, and a hint of... honey?

Blasting from the depths of the room with deafeningly loud transparent wings were large cavern bees with intent written upon their charge, headed straight for the pair as if to make a strike against them. He straightens and checks the normal with the push of his flank as he goes to angle himself towards the threat and the other to the exit across the long length of polished stone.

"Bees! Run!" He bellows, hoping that the vibration and focus of his voice would disrupt the flight pattern, battering the bugs away; giving them enough space and time to charge from the room and further into the depths of the dungeon.

Aquilo jolts into action, more akin to the spooked flinch and squinting of a foal that had not seen or will turn to see the threat at hoof. Peregrine follows him close behind, thudding hooves covering any sound or noise of Aquilo's fleeing form with the strikes of a tremenous weight. He may only have a a slight height advantage on the other, but Aquilo took more after his Heraldic Sire and Peregrine... did not know his own heritage, but likely two bulkier Coursers came together to make him; the dark liver chestnut that more alike to a carriage with his bulging frame and hard earned muscles.

He had worked in the training courtyards and fields for as nearly long as he had known the royal, striving to become the shield that he is today.