"What did I tell you about today?" Rotharde's tone already betrayed his ire and it felt like they had only just gotten down here.

          "To look where I'm going." Rustica parroted - again - with a roll of her eyes. For once her brother had allowed her to take the lead. Whether he was growing leniant or putting trust in her developing skills she wasn't aware, and he didn't give her any inclinations to make a better guess. With a sideways glance back at the brooding bay, she couldn't help but finally say something. "So... you're mane."

          "What about it?" He chuffed.

          "Don't play thick, it's different! Lookit, you've gone grey!"

          "Oh, yea. I found some sort of ring or... band? Not sure. And when I when I put it on it and got a look at myself again I had this." He shook his head, the movement rolling down his neck to spill salt-and-peppered locks all about himself. He even offered a tail flick some time after with a punctuation of silvery tress. "The band has disappeared though, but well... I don't mind it."

          "Looks good one you." She teased, "Now everyone will know you're the older sibling!"

          "Stop it and keep going. But remember-"

          "I know! Look where I'm going, you almost fell in a pit, blah blah blah."

          The conversation had long faded. It felt like they were wandering the moss ladden tunnels for hours. Rotharde mentioned once that he'd been somewhere similar before, again reminded her of his pit experience, and for the umpteenth time told Rustica to keep her guard up. While he may have no belief in her skills, Rustica felt that she'd been learning and would make this her first dungeon experience without having forgotten anything. Their hooves clacked upon the stone and the empty halls echoed with a ricochet back at them to confirm their solidarity. Everything was unmoving, a smear of greys and verd, and eerily still. Not even a beetle or ant seemed to scurrying across the cobbled path, and that other new addition on Rotharde's withers hadn't offered a single hoot to break the building tension.

          A trepidation crept into Rustica's chest as she kept pursuing forward paths, her bronze eyes sweeping for anything to bring back to the valley above to account for their journey. After coming up empty hooved with empty alcove or crumbled corner after collapsed ceiling, the mare's unease transformed downtrodden. Was this some sort of dud route? So overly explored there was nothing left? If they could only find some exit to the labyrinth then maybe they could be back to finding something to scratch the adventuring itch.

          "I think we mi-" her mumbled observation transformed into a surprised yelp as the floor below her fell. Two doors hidden in the cracked stone passage reared open to reveal a dark pit. There was no stopping her momentum forward even as Rotharde lurched forward with a bellowing warning. Rustica plummeted down into the dark. The low light winked off of structures rising from the darkness and the red roan mare loosed a scream when she identified just what was careening her way. Spikes.

          Flailing wildly her hinds met to back of the trap's wall and she propelled forward. It pushed her towards another, where she spring boarded again. Like a panicked bird trapped in a cage she zigged and zagged until finally a spike caught one of her satchels and sliced through it without effort. Rustica couldn't hear Rotharde as the trapdoor slammed behind her and she was left in the dark, sliding down the side of a spike that had only just missed her. It tore her leather trappings to ribbons and she was left panting at the base of narrow spines jutting from the floor. Laboured breaths raged through her, a panicked sweat beading her brow, as she tried to find purchase in the darkness.

          She yelped when the trap doors clamoured again, spilling light into the area. "Rustica?!"

          "I'm o-o-okay!" She called back. Her eyes were locked upon the death around her: remenants of old divers who'd been less fortunate strewn about. "I'm okay."

          Rotharde mumbled something above before shouting down, "What did I say?"

          "How was I supposed to know there'd be traps like this in level one!" She retorted, finally pulling away from the spike and stumbling through its kin.

          Rotharde didn't say anything but rather erupted with a long, heavy sigh. When she looked up, she noticed he was keeping the doors ajar with a forehoof. Thankfully as well, since without it she couldn't see five inches in front of her. "How do you thi-" before she could finish her question, the owl finally hooted. It was so unexpected both coursers seemed to freeze. The bird of prey adjusted its position on Rotharde's shoulders before diving into the pit. Without a sound it swept through the air, landing atop a clear archway carved into one of the walls. A way out!

          "Guess that bird is useful for something." Rotharde complained, "Go ahead and get yourself through there. I'll find a safe way down so we don't get separated."