The pile of slime—still blue-green, but now strangely phosphorescent, like the fungi Phoebe took care not to trod upon—oozed around a corner, no quicker than it had been for the last quarter hour, by the scout's estimation. It was difficult to tell time down here, cut off from the usual routine of night and day one found on the surface. In the upper levels of the Dungeon, one might find the occasional glimpse of sunlight (or moonlight) by virtue of a crumbling ceiling, but they had not passed any such inadvertent skylights as the slime drew Phoebe deeper into the maze. It smelled nasty, as the Dungeon always did, mildew and rotting vegetation and the musty smell of still air combining into an ever-deepening funk as she followed the slime, passing by unfamiliar passageways without pause. 

Just as she began to wish she'd availed herself of a lantern-harness to save herself the annoyance of carrying her lantern between her teeth, something large loomed out of the darkness. Or—not quite out of the darkness, exactly. It was sickly blue, the kind of color Phoebe associated with corpse-lights, but larger than any corpse-light she'd ever seen, moving towards her at a deliberate speed. She halted, startled; the shape halted too. 

Her ears flattened against her skull as she took in the figure, trying to make out details in the darkness. The particular shade of light it gave off, combined with the light of her own lantern, made it difficult to see. Slowly, Phoebe put down the lantern, her eyes never leaving the glowing thing. Strangely, what she assumed was its head also lowered, as if—

Startled, Phoebe looked for the slime; it was long gone, only a trail through the dirt crusting the floor indicating where it had been. Cursing herself, Phoebe backed up a step, two steps, fixing her gaze on the glowing figure again. It, too, seemed to move away, and suddenly, Phoebe felt certain that the figure was another Courser.

"Hello?" she called into the darkness, her voice rattling off the cold stones that made up the walls, floors, and ceilings of the hallway. It was suddenly much colder than she had realized, chilling her to the bone, but it didn't seem like winter cold. No, this was something else.

There was no audible response, but the corpse-light seemed to pulse in answer to her greeting. As if it had been waiting for her.

With a snort, Phoebe edged forward, out of the ring of light cast by her lantern. As she blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust, the phosphorescent Courser waited, too. Was this a ghost, the earthly remains of some deceased Courser? If it was another Courser, surely she could trust it...but not all things were as they seemed. This could all be a ruse, from the slime to the mysterious figure that she only thought was another Courser. She still couldn't make out enough detail to be sure, and yet...

Her instincts told her this thing could be trusted. 

Training battled with instinct as she stepped forward, further away from the warm yellow glow of the lantern, until the only lights she could see were the glowing fungi dotting the walls and the phosphorescent figure before her. As she drew closer, she could see now that it was a Courser, or at least Courser-shaped, moving towards her at the same pace she was. In fact...

Phoebe paused, one foot in midair. The glowing Courser stopped, too, its opposite foot also raised. Phoebe put down her foot, the iron of her shoe clinking against a bit of rock. The glowing Courser did the same, albeit without the sound. 

Phoebe's skin prickled, aware of the tingle of something Other in the air. Shifting nervously, she stepped unwittingly upon one of the mushrooms at her feet, crushing the delicate cap and freeing the glowing spores within. The tiny particles, no bigger than dust, became a glowing cloud of mist between her and the glowing Courser. It reared, shrieking without a voice, and Phoebe danced backwards, doing her best not to tread on anything else. But now she knew. She knew what this creature was.

Fungus. She'd always heard that the fungi of the Dungeon were interconnected, that they, somehow, among thousands and thousands of growing, glowing things, had something akin to a soul. That they were intelligent, as intelligent as a hound or a bird of prey. And here was proof, that the things felt pain, or something like it. Proof that they were no ordinary fungi, inert as surface mushrooms were.

"I'm sorry," she said into the gloom, as the fungi-Courser settled onto four feet again. "I won't do it again."

The fungi-Courser shook its head, as if it were snorting at her. Abruptly, it turned away, trotting down the hall once again, and Phoebe wondered if this time, her luck would run out.