Spot was not sure how long he’d been trying to find his way out of the cave, or dungeon, or tomb– Eugh. A shiver ran down his spine. His sides heaved. He wasn’t panting, precisely, but it was damn close. His nostrils flared as he slowed to a job, his muscles aching as he tipped his head and turned to glance behind him. All there was only the darkness. Remarkably (or perhaps not remarkably at all), the bones hadn’t followed him, but…

Spot swallowed hard, his throat feeling too small for his own saliva. The courser coughed, feeling a bit warm as he flattened his ears – but he was alone. There was no one to laugh at him (thank goodness, because if the bones had followed him, to point and snicker – okay actually, he would be a bit perplexed by the laughing bit – no, wait, he’s getting off track), but it still took Spot a few moments to calm the crackle of his own thoughts as he flickered his ears and pinched his lip. He was fine. He was fine.

(He was not fine, he was not fine at all, he was lost in a dungeon, in a TOMB, and no one knew where he was–)

“I’m fine,” he whispered to himself and swung his head. The thundering of his heart had quieted to a low murmur and Spot forced himself to take another breath (a normal breath, not a gasping, quaking thing). This time, he lifted his head up, his nostrils flared and twitching as he tried to scent the air. He cupped his ears forward, but he heard nothing. Smelled nothing. He pressed his lips together and sighed, shifting his weight–

This was a terribly bad idea.

He kept moving.

Spot has lost track of time, his head hanging low; the burn in his muscles had given way to that awful, melting feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a foal, racing Smudge back and forth across the fields before his parents–

Split.

He lifted his head, shaking the thought out when a flash of movement caught his eye. Something copper. His nostrils flared. “Hello!” he called, almost breathless as excitement welled up. He wasn’t alone! He could barely see the other courser, but he could make them out, a shimmering copper hide around the bend. He turned and began to trot in that direction; the sound of hooves against stone rang out and his excitement rose more. He wasn’t alone.

“Do you know the way out?”

The words tumbled out as he pressed his ears towards the other courser; also chestnut, also a star, also–

Spot suddenly threw his weight back onto his haunches, throwing his legs out in front of him in a scrambling tangle. The shoes screeched and sparked and the courser might have yelped if he weren’t so busy trying not to hit the–

“Oof!”

The mirror met him head on and Spot peddled backwards, swinging his head back and forth as his vision swam a bit. His tail swished and he took a few steps backwards, pinning his ears as he eyes the chestnut in the wall.

“No,” he answered grimly. “I don’t.”