The air was thick with the smell of life. From the robust vines, clusters of musky mushrooms, and damp soil Rustica found the smell nauseating. Well, perhaps it was the fact she'd set off on an empty stomach. It was hard to find the time to eat when you were buzzing to go off on your first dungeon dive! Her elder brother had promised to take her to the first level today, and of course Rotharde wouldn't go easy on her. He'd drilled her the prior night to have everything she needed in her pack: rope, torches, chalk, basic tools, and most importantly water and food. Though he didn't have much more experience, he had always been the most prepared of the two, and Rustica hoped with his guidance she could obtain some of his preparedness. She had triple checked everything when he came to fetch her in the morn, and she was certain everything would go without a hitch!

Though perhaps she was considering the success of her morning simply through the rosy hue of her excitement, because now Rustica had a pit in her stomach not just from nerves, but officially, hunger.

It started as a low growl, once would have mistaken as the ground moaning beneath the bulk of a fully kitted courser's step, but escalated to a bubbling moan that seemed to echo off of the damp cavern walls. Rotharde, having been perched at a segway ahead with his torch, slowly turned his visage around and glowered over his shoulder. Immediately Rustica shrunk into the dim shadows and offered a small but unconvincing smile as she murmured, "Ooops..."

Rotharde's tone was as sharp as she expected, and hushed so that any lurking dangers couldn't overhear them. "Just eat a ration." With the stillness one may expect in a stalking predator he turned back to keep on the lookout. Right! Her pack! Rustica turned to her saddlebags, used her pink lined muzzle to dig into the worn leather straps and satchels for those tasteless but life saving bits of cured fruits. Darkness crept upon her with a chill as Rotharde seemed to inch forward with an eagerness to press on. Rustica searched more frantically, leaving her packs open so that she could squint into them in the dying light.

"Are you coming?" Rotharde snapped, his voice trailing. He had obviously expected her just to follow like some helpless foal.

She was still deep into her packs when he popped back around a moss covered corner, ears canted and expression dubious. "What are you doing?"

There was no denying it... no escaping it. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned to face her brother. She looked a mess. All the straps of her packs hung like limp tassles and their tops overturned. Some of her small effects even dangled over the edges in a desparate attempt to escape her thorough sperlunking. With a voice as small as a mouse, and her eyes drawn down towards the dirt path, Rustice admitted. "Uh... I forgot my rations."

"You what?"

"I forgot my rations."

Silence. Finally Rustica looked up to her brother, eyes welling and skin hot. Rotharde's darker face and sharper eyes stared back at her from the torchlight, the cracking and popping of the lightsource the only sound shattering the quiet. With a deep sigh, Rotharde shrugged one of his packs up to his shoulder, flipping into it deftly and pulling out a small roll of bread. He tossed it too her with a jerk of his head and even smiled when she caught it from midair - though just barely.

"Make a point to remember next time. Now come on."