Brynn typically keeps her metaphorical fingers on the pulse of the rumors within the dungeoneering community. Learning what she can by playing the fly on the wall in the taverns, listening to what the more experienced members of the community have to say. Their insight is valuable, especially as she's trying to find her place in the world among them. Not as wet behind the ears as she was upon first arrival, she's getting to know the dungeon, getting to know those who call this place their home. Their home, their work... it's become both. Slowly but surely, she's finding her place in this world.

Was it all that slow? It hadn't been meteoric or anything, but she's really catching a rhythm within the dungeons. Learning how they work, learning what lives here. The first and second levels of the strange place were becoming more comfortable. Not just more comfortable, but really, she's doing pretty well for herself. With Rocky to keep her company, things are going swimmingly. Getting her feet under her, and learning just how to search and sniff out all the best things the dungeon has to offer. Confidence was starting to look pretty good on Brynn, if she does say so herself.

It's time she tackles the Moors of Sleep. Feeling good about it, feeling good about herself, she'd hired on a guide. Circling back to those rumors, she has to wonder if the rumors about Everard are true. Only hire him if you can keep up... well, who better to show her the next level down, then? Certain she can keep up, perhaps it's hubris. Too much of a good thing, and that good thing is the confidence that radiates from the girl. She can't contain it, can't be asked contain it. There's too much excitement, more than enough to draw her deeper.

But as they wind through the Moors, Brynn learns exactly why the oldheads caution against Everard's company. It's not bad by any means, he's just so fast. He doesn't live up to the cheerful stereotype of his breed, at least as far as she can see. His jaw remains set in a firm, tense line. There's little conversation between the pair as they explore the Moors. No, simply a grim preparedness, and a silence that stretches between them. A silence which borders on awkward, though Brynn's plucky attitude keeps her from feeling too bad about it.

The silence down here is... crushing. Deafening, in a way that she can't describe. Tension in every step. Even the steady one-two beat of both parties hooves against the ground is too loud. Brynn feels like an intruder here, in the worst way. Things she shouldn't see, though she felt ready for it before coming down here. Trying her best to stay focused on the task at hand, at least she has Everard's example to follow. He's razor sharp, even if he's not so keen on the details. By the time she catches a body of water to refill her canteens, Brynn is parched.

Moving to the edge of the shallow pond, Everard is still forging ahead. It's okay, she'll catch up in a minute. The mirror-like quality of the still water catches Brynn's attention, her gaze settling on the glassy surface. Stillness, but when she takes a close look... it's not still at all. The images before her are moving, springing to life. Waving banners, not unlike the ones she's seen hanging in some of the halls upstairs, though they're in beautiful, full colors. They flap in the breeze, waved by something unseen. Polearms glimmering in a sun that doesn't shine around her. Tents, far larger and grander, set in tidy rows with military precision, and figures coursing in and out beneath them. Brynn tenses, about to take a step forward and take a look at her own reflection, nearly entranced by the things happening before her.

"No!" Everard's voice shatters the silence around her, breaks the trance that's gripped the girl. His muzzle makes contact, pushing her arched neck up from the mirrored surface. A haunting look in the man's eye as he pushes Brynn back. Ears pinned, a snapping of his teeth. He wasn't trying to harm her, she's pretty sure. "We'll find you water somewhere else." Tone gruff, grumbling as he shoves one of his own full canteens into her grasp. "Keep. Moving." Though he doesn't look in the pool this time, it's clear to Brynn that whatever he's seen, it's too much.