The voices did not let up, though the words were never quite legible. Well, legible wasn't the correct word, as they were auditory and not scriptoral, but it felt more accurate than thinking "audible", "discernable", "intelligible". But that doesn't really matter - after all, Firetruck wasn't thinking those words themself; they could feel that something was only some of the way correct, and they clung to the hope that the correct item was that there was someone who desperately needed them.

Somewhere, somewhere out there, they would stop their present course of being useless, and others would assign them value that they couldn't give themself.

The cavern widened, the light feeling both brighter and somehow closer to darkness. Firetruck felt a hoof touch an amount of air that was unusual and offputting, and they quickly scooted back, their blue eyes bright with surprise. A hole, large, dark, neverending. And the voices seemed to be coming from inside. They knew it was likely false, likely a chance to be destroyed, but if there really was someone down there - they had to try. They had to try.

So they jumped.

And they fell.

And they fell.

and they fell.

and they fell

and they fell

and

they

stopped.

Firetruck paused, slowly catching their breath, and found themself in in a cavern without vertical entrance, where they could see pretty Joshua slowly pacing.