It took a day to reach the opening to the cavern, the draft getting colder and colder as he approached the entrance. It wasn't the outside, well it was, but the steep cliff overlooking what he thought might be an ocean wasn't the outside he was hoping for. Where was he? He looks at the beetle uneasily, ears pinned, and sighs softly with a gentle murmur of “Guess we're not going home bug...”

He turns around, a bit confused with the maze-like caverns, an unsettling quiet through the tunnels didn't fill him with confidence, but might as well, he needed to go home. He's still confused about how he blacked out, he knows the water is the cause, but how did he wake up somewhere completely lost?

Bucephalus knows that if he can find somebody who knows what's going on here, somebody who knows these tunnels, that he can reach home, but he's starting to feel hopeless, all that he's found is some discarded barding and insects. There's a sigh that escapes him as he walks on through a different path than the one that got him here.

“So, do you have a name?” Bucephalus asks the beetle, who just twitches an antennae.

“The strong silent type then?” he chuckles to himself—a click in response, which Bucephalus took as a confirmation.

“So do you want a name?” A second click, with a minor antennae twitch. He's a bit surprised that he's getting such a good conversation out of an insect that he found in the cave.

”Hmm, how about Bugcephalus?“ he asks jokingly, to which he responds with a few mandible clicks again.

As he goes to talk again, his hoof clanks on a chunk of metal, a dull thunk that resonates in the cavern. Looking down, he spots a chamfron - something that a more experienced Courser lost.

“Might as well snag it,” Bucephalus thinks, leaning down to grab it, armor would be useful if he got in a tiff, and then it moved. He leaped backward quickly, shifting his body so quickly that Bugcephalus almost nearly fell off.

Is it some sort of crustacean? Bucephalus slowly approaches, but the crustacean snaps a claw at him, and he jolts back. The chamfron doesn't seem to fit right, as a shell, it wasn't even great, not covering nearly enough of the soft belly of the creature, but Bucephalus supposes that it doesn't matter at the end of the day.

If he can snag it, he could run away quickly and leave the creature in the dust. It took a few tries and a snipped nostril to finally get the thing, but the speed at which Bucephalus was going made him not realize where exactly he was heading.

Running aimlessly was a bad idea, but Bucephalus was full of bad ideas. All that could be heard in that area of the tunnels was a resonated cheer and a “WE DID IT BUGCEPHALUS! WE DID IT!” as he ran through the corridors blindly.