The party made their way back to their makeshift camp, tired and bruised from their recent perilous exploration of a nearby pit. The encounter with the talking stone walls, the swarms of biting insects, and the sudden drop into darkness had drained them of energy. The thought of resting at camp, if only for a brief moment, kept them moving forward.

As they rounded the last corner and the familiar glow of their campsite came into view, Cass was the first to notice something was off. He stopped dead in his tracks, frowning at the flickering firelight. "That’s not our fire," he muttered under his breath.

Dacite’s eyes narrowed. 

"Something’s wrong."

The flickering light danced over unfamiliar figures. A group of adventurers, two in total, had taken up residence in their camp. The strangers were scattered about, rummaging through supplies, picking over items, and, worst of all, counting the party’s hard-earned treasure, a small pile of coins and relics they had gathered over the last few days.

Darling let out an incredulous laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You've got to be kidding me." He strode forward, "Hey! What do you think you’re doing with our stuff?"

The strangers looked up lazily, as though they didn't have a care in the world. One of them, seal bay with a jagged scar running across his face, stood up from where he was sitting, coin in mouth. "Your stuff?" he repeated with a smirk, glancing around at his companion. 

"Funny, because it looks like you left it here unattended. And you know what they say: finders, keepers."

Cass stepped forward, trying to keep the tension from boiling over too quickly. "We were just exploring nearby. This is our camp," he said, his voice measured but firm. "We don’t want any trouble, but you need to move on."

The scarred courser raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, is that so? Well, looks to me like you're the ones who wandered too far." 

One of the other adventurers, a thin mare stood up with a snicker, kicking over a small pile of coins. "You heard your friend," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We’re not moving. And you’re not getting any of this back, unless you can take it."

"I’m done talking," Dacite growled. "Last chance. Leave or we’ll make you leave."

The scarred leader’s smirk widened. "Oh, I think I like your fire," he said with a grin. "But you’re not scaring anyone. Let’s see how tough you really are."

Before he could finish his taunt, Dacite moved. She lunged forward, her hooves flashing in the dim firelight as she tackled the stallion’s chest. He barely had time to flee..

Chaos erupted.

The camp became a flurry of movement, bodies crashing, insults echoing through the walls, and bites being thrown left and right. Dacite held her ground against the scarred leader, her tackles and kicks powerful and precise, forcing him back. "You picked the wrong camp to raid," she hissed, her teeth gritted with effort.

The ruffians, though experienced, had clearly underestimated the party’s resolve. 

Finally, with a grunt of effort, Dacite defeated the leader. His eyes, wide with fury and disbelief, locked onto hers. "You’ve made your point," he spat through clenched teeth.

Dacite glared down at him, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "We told you to leave. Now get out."

The leader’s companion, seeing her boss defeated, quickly backed away, nursing their wounds. The mare helped the rogue to his feet, her expression hard but filled with reluctant respect.

Without another word, the ruffians gathered their belongings, thankfully leaving the party untouched, and began to retreat into the shadows, disappearing down the corridor from which they had come.

As the last of them vanished into the darkness, Darling let out a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Well," he said, leaning on his rapier, "that was a bit more trouble than I bargained for."

Flake nodded, already retrieving their scattered gear. "We need better security," they said dryly, though their eyes still darted around the camp, making sure nothing else had been disturbed.

Cass picked up his things  making sure everything was still intact. "I hate looters," he muttered, shaking his head.

Dacite shaked her head, her muscles still tense from the fight. "Next time," she said, her voice low, "we won’t let them walk away."