With a rough cut knife in his teeth, Prism was prying mushrooms and lichen off of a wall. A few corpses, clearly previously courser, had been dragged into this aqueduct at some point - and these too were largely covered in moss and young mushroom growth. There was no scent of rotting flesh, or anything else here either. The 'decay' process was different when the fungi were in charge of it.

When all the nutrients had been stripped, and just the bones remained, well, the fungus did not care if Prism picked out the bones he liked and carried them off.

Prism looked studiously at a rather large mushroom - of a known tasty variety - growing out of a corpse's face, and weighed the matter heavily, before cutting it off a good half-way up the stem. No one could complain about that, surely, they reasoned, and dropped it into the basket they'd brought.

It was Prism's day to seek out provisions for the Gray Wings, and so he was here, stripping a good section of the wall of mushroom. These would be used in meals, or to lure more protein rich game - or grubs. Every bit of it would find use at least, that was a sure thing. There was a slight splash from near the entrance to the alcove, and Prism glanced up, watching a small grouping of living mushrooms working to drag a deer carcass in the area proper.

That was odd. Deer were only on the surface. Were the little fellows getting up to the surface, or had someone chased a deer into the dungeon proper? He'd have to note this and keep an eye on it - Collapse would surely find it curious as well...

Rabbits and the like, smaller things, ended up accidentally chased or driven into dungeons often enough - but a deer was practically unheard of. If the dungeon wildlife was venturing out, well. That was a messy matter.

He hoped it wasn't messy. He didn't like dealing with THAT sort of messy, he thought, cutting off the fat cap of an edible variety of mushroom that was poking out of a deceased courser's ribcage. The living mushrooms watched him, but didn't interrupt - they merely found him a curiosity, like he did them. A symbiosis.

"Are you done in there-?" The shape of another Gray Wing peered around the corner of the entrance, a number of dead hares tied to their packs. Right. Everyone always wanted to rush these things.

Prism cast an almost forlorn look at a set of bones that was nearly 'finished', stripped of all flesh - but shook his head, collected his basket, and ducked out of the alcove.

"Yes. I have something to check, but I'll round back to it later."