A light breeze wound its way amongst the dancing leaves, their rustling background music to the calls of birds who sing in the treetops. Dew-kissed grass shifts under the winds touch the varying shades of green causing a rippling sea across the stretching fields as dabbled shadows dot the landscape casted from lone trees who stand in watch of their land. Beneath one of these wood-armored sentinels lies a brindle bay, her sides rising and lowering with each slumbering breath and her head resting peacefully on her tucked legs. In such a deep sleep she appears to hardly notice anything, yet something about her relaxed form feels like she notices everything around her.
            A small figure materializes from the tall grass, its golden form hazy and unrecognizable in shape. The ghostly creature whines softly nuzzling the horse’s side before moving on to her face when no reaction is given the first time. Grunting, she finally reacts shifting her weight and moving her head away from the golden haze, eyes never opening as she attempts to ignore the creature’s efforts. Her attempts are in vain however, the ghost is persistent whining and attempting to crawl over her body. When her light gentle breeze turns into a colder, harsher one bringing the smell of cave rot and mildew does she finally give this interruption her full attention.
            Moosetracks lifts her head wearily, her brown eyes opening not to a scene of fields and birds but to dark monotones of the caverns. The only light being produced currently is from a faint glow of cave moss and mushrooms casting the small chamber into a mix of pale gray and black. The ghostly creature of her dreams peers up at her now solid and fully formed, the small golden dachshund yips at her eagerly tail wagging and floppy ears perked. Moosetracks huffs at Trinket as she begins rising to her hooves, body still heavy from her deep slumber as she tries to blink away the sleep. Normally the hound doesn’t bother her unless something has caught his interest or she was sleeping for too long. While she doesn’t feel like she slept for that long she could be easily mistaken. Best to check it out first then decide if I want to go back to sleep, Moosetracks convinces her tired muscles giving her body a hearty shake.
            “Alright what Trinket, why are you whining.” Moosetracks more so demands than asks. Trinket is unbothered by her tone and merely yips up at her. Frowning at his reaction the brindle bay jerks her head towards the only entrance into this small chamber, an even smaller tunnel draped in cave ivy and hanging mosses. “Go on show,” she orders the dachshund who obediently at her signal trots off towards the tunnel. Deciding to only grab her cloak Moosetracks quickly slips her head through the hole in the warm fabric and walks after Trinket. As Trinket easily bounds through the short tunnel Moosetracks is forced to take her time or otherwise risk rubbing her sides against the rocks and mosses. Emerging on the other side the courser and her pet are met with a much larger cavern, various tunnels crisscrossing in and out as a trickle of water runs down a stack of fallen boulders pooling at its base. Remnants of old structures and ancient debris lay scattered about the cavern, all of it long since picked clean for valuables by Moosetracks and whoever else might’ve found their way here. 
            At first, Moosetracks expected to see other coursers here thinking that’s what Trinket could be alerting to. To her surprise however the cavern is empty and so suspicion starts setting in. Her eyes examine every familiar corner, shadow, and shape as she tries to locate the source of unease Trinket was alerting her to. Cautiously she walks forward head lowered and hooves placed carefully to make as minimum amount of sound as possible. So far all she can hear is the gentle trickling of the water and the sound of bats squeaking in the farthest reaches of the cave. Her eyes lock onto Trinket who sniffs the air curiously, tail stiff and out and eyes flicking this way and that. Something definitely has her little fluffy companion on edge.
            Entering one of the bits of ruin that remains intact, Moosetrack circles a small stone column, eyes trailing over the remaining bits of wall; its dark gray surface turned a green tinge thanks to the plantlife of the cavern. Like everything else so far nothing has caught her attention. Part of her begins doubting her little hound, wondering if a rat might’ve spooked him or an old bat crashing into a stalagmite did. As Trinket’s growls reach Moosetracks ears however she casts aside this doubt and turns to run back to the dog worried something might have snuck up on him. With his size Trinket is a snack for many dungeon dwelling monsters, no matter how fierce he is.
            The sound of something falling followed by a painful slam on Moosetracks’ back, her heart rate jumping as many sharp painful things pierce her hide and clutch her back muscles. Her panic only increases as she can hear labor breathing just behind her ears. “Fucking- shit- hell-” Moosetracks curses wildly instinct taking over as she frantically tries to buck whatever clings to her so desperately. The breathing only gets more intense and labored during her struggle yet whatever clings to her doesn’t relevant claws only digging sharper into her back causing intense pain throughout her nervous system. Anger blossoms intently within the courser, her nostrils flaring and ears pinned she puts all of her effort into trying to throw off the assaulter. During her wild cacophony of kicks, jumps, and jerks she accidentally slams into one of the ancient stoned walls sending a shock of hard pain through her side. Moosetracks hardly seems to notice though as her attention instead snaps to the pained and sudden shriek from the beast burdening her.
            She decides to switch tactics, seeing the accidental success of slamming into the wall she repeats the process. Slamming this way and that into stone, rock, or pillar crushing the parts of the creature digging into her flesh. Eyes locking onto a small portion of low hanging roof connected to one of the pillars Moosetracks bolts for it using her momentum and raged fueled blood to launch herself back first into the piece of stone. This seems to have warrant some success. The creature’s grip has loosened tremendously and she can hear the now pained chittering it utters shifting or sliding on her back now. Urged on by the success she decides to try and finish off this beast. Using her last bit of momentum she slides to the ground rolling quick and hard onto her back hoping to catch the creature unawares- another success. She hears the oddly satisfying crunch of its exoskeleton and squelching of blood and flesh being forced out of the cracks and crushed pieces of the chitinous armor from beneath Moosetracks superior weight.
            Moosetracks pants heavily as she rolls back onto her side and then onto her legs, body shaking from the remaining adrenaline pumping in her veins. She looks down on the gorey scene next to her. Shimmering green and blue blood splatters the stones covering crushed charcoal and brown shell and leaking from between squeezed out dark organs and cream colored flesh. The same blood, Moosetracks realizes, is probably dripping from her own cloak and hide. She shivers in disgust at the thought before returning her attention to the corpse. This multi-limbed creature is hard to place due to its now mangled form, the barbed ends of its segmented legs explains the ease of which it remained on her back. The panting she heard from it is easily explained by two things she notices. One, the monster looks bloated, its stomach now quite literally forcing its way out of the body’s compromised structure. It must’ve eaten a hefty meal before trying for her, the creature’s glutton was its downfall. The second thing is its poorly structured flat face; of which she’s confident wasn’t from her flattening it but rather that’s just how it looks. The glimpse of the main rows of barbed teeth made her thankful it was too busy struggling to hang on to get a bite into her, especially once she notices pincers within the folds of its cheeks.
            “Another thing to look out for in these caves,” Moosetracks grumbles to herself, peeling her eyes away from the grotesque scene and now trying to examine the puncture wounds on her sides. She can feel the hot blood pooling there on her fur already. Her ears flick as Trinket bounds over panting excitedly as he sniffs at the corpse and blood. To Moosetracks disgust she watches as Trinket begins chewing at the flesh and organs, lapping up some of the blood along with it. “Ugh, really Trinket? That’s disgusting.” She wrinkles her nose and turns away. If she does go back to sleep the last thing she wants is to dream about that. When the sounds of crunching, slurping, and chewing become too much Moosetracks groans and begins heading off back to her cave. She’s not going to stay for this, and she needs to clean off these wounds. Who knows where that thing had been before her. Disappearing back into the hidden ivy tunnel all that’s left are sounds of Trinket devouring his breakfast.