If she was going to catch up with Rigo she had to keep going. It was a constant reminder in her head, bouncing off of the inside of her skull and echoing there in daunting reminder. What would it look like if she was the only new-generation Rohakas never to achieve anything beyond a simple dive or two? Maybe she'd bring back a gold coin or two, maybe an herb of interest to alchemists or the strange Wizard. It wasn't enough for Ramona. Hardly enough. While her frustration could only be reflected internally, her harks still pinned against her head and her brow shadowed her quartz-like eyes. Flagg paid her ire no mind, casually sleeping in her mane despite the oppressive darkness.

It was a darkness the likes Ramona could have never imagined.

Despite the lantern at her shoulder offering her reprieve for some sword lengths, that was it. The curling vines with their plump pumpkins weaved in and out of the abyss as she continued down the dirt-trodden path. Whatever was ahead of her remained shrouded in mystery no matter how much she postured for her lantern to unveil. It had her skin crawling. Noises scurried, rustled, or chittered in that blackness. Their sources never came into view or even left a trace. It was impossible to discern if it was simply some wayward rat or one of the Harvester's wayward spirits. Her skin prickled and a chill ran down her dorsal. Ramona tried to shake it off, releasing a disgruntled squeak from Flagg, but the trepidation still hung as heavy as the shadows.

At least Flagg was with her. She could feel him stirring, his little fingers grabbing at her hair to steady himself. Between the light and him, she would be fine in the darkness. She knew it. All she had to do was be brave, keep marching, and eventually, she too could amount to something worthy of the Rohakas name.