The skeletal hand on his forelock stopped pulling forward. Kyros stopped too, his hooves shuffling in the thick leaf mold. It was unlike him to rely solely on the floating, skeletal servant to guide him through the dungeon, but of late he hadn't been sleeping particularly well.

The solution was an inelegant one; Kyros felt lazy. He could engage his senses, listening and sniffing at his surroundings to get around, but commanding the skeleton to lead him around an obstacle or across dangerous terrain was far easier.

He reached his nose forward cautiously, not hearing any potential foe. There was no tell-tale scent of a predatory plant or creature waiting to snap at the soft skin of his muzzle; still, that didn't mean whatever he was about to touch wasn't dangerous.

The surface was smooth, and as Kyros' nose circled outward, slowly finding the edges of it, he realised that this was a living thing. The slow movement of a carpet of flesh against the undergrowth gave it away.

Sensing no ill intent by this being, Kyros settled down to wait for it to be on its way.