There was no such thing as safety, not really, and especially not within the dungeon. Anyone who claimed otherwise - be it protection services, or warding charms - was a liar, as the best defense against the dungeon was oneself. And so far, Karma had learned, the best thing for keeping ones hide in-tact was having another set of eyes at her back. A few pairs of eyes was optimal but not always an achievable goal: sure, there were lots of coursers to choose from, but she tended to work the quieter hours and use the less traveled roads. That alone made the pot just a little bit harder to pull from, as far as company was concerned. Although, the mare wasn't terribly picky about who she actually took into the depths with her - so long as they had a few brain cells knocking around and a relatively strong sense of urgency. She had developed a preference for 'silent types', finding she liked when her companions said very little to her after nearly dying in some caverns with a bunch of coursers who couldn't shut up.

Tonight, Karma was accompanied by a bay courser with a sour attitude and an inability to slow down. He outpaced her, and she found herself having to strain to keep up with his grueling pace. He'd barely said a word to her in the time they'd been travelling together, only offering his name: 'Vice'. Occasionally, he'd grunt and indicate with an ear or raised hoof something he thought important and, typically, it was something they could avoid or ignore. He had more common sense than most, patiently tackling any hurdles but always moving forward. Karma felt like they were in and out of the caverns faster than most nights, and she couldn't say she minded.

There's no way Karma would call it safety, perhaps she couldn't believe in safety. But there was never any doubt that having another sensible soul seemed to have a positive affect on her own, rallying her.