Under a large oak tree, four pairs of eyes are glued to him, filled with the excitement and wonder that only young horses possess. Their tails are constantly moving; swishing in anticipation, swatting away a fly, swatting each other if they get too close. 

It almost makes Cenric laugh. Almost.

"A story? Well I suppose I could come up with one," Cenric looks down at them, forcing himself to summon a demeanor more fitting to what they imagine a legendary courser should be like. A courser that's strong and brave and enjoys telling tales of his exploits. It's hard, especially today, but he doesn't want to let them down. 

"How about when I first entered the dungeon?"

A chorus of yeses encourages him to continue. 

"I come from a very long line of dungeon divers. When I was young, my father used to regale me with stories dating back hundreds of years. I'm sure many of them were more like tall tales as opposed to actual truth, but to me they were fact.

I trained for years until I was deemed old enough to enter the dungeons. At four years old, I was sent on my first dive."

"Come back in five days with proof that you can best the dungeon, or don't come back at all." Cenric's father nodded towards the dark entrance. "Go on, boy. Make me proud."

It takes a moment for Cenric to realize that he had stopped talking, lost in a memory that he wishes he could forget. 

The younglings stare at him. "Sir?" a filly says hesitantly. 

He's fine. 

Cenric takes a deep breath and drops his head down to be eye level with them; their eyes widen. He had promised them a story. He'll make it a damn good one. 

"I entered with nothing but the armor my father taught me to make. My task was simple: bring something back from my adventure."

A colt spoke up. "Well, what did you get?"

Cenric bares his teeth. "Not a tolerance for interrupting yearlings, that's for sure."

The colt's ears flatten and he backs up a few steps.

Cenric swings his head around, staring at each of them in turn. When he's sure that they'll stay quiet, he continues. 

"I ran in full of too much confidence. I didn't think to be cautious or examine my surroundings. I'm very lucky that the first thing I ran into was another horse and not something that might've killed me.

This horse was a lovely grey mare. She was older and had far more experience than I did. I learned more from her than from my own father."

He can't control it.

He must.

"We had been in the dungeon for three days, searching for something truly spectacular to bring back to my father." Cenric forces the words out quickly, refusing to allow himself time to think too much.

"Time means nothing down there; I only knew it had been three days because my father told me when I returned. 

So, on the third day we came across a room of skeletons."

"Horse skeletons?" a filly breathed.

"Yes."

"Misty, look! I bet there's something cool in here."

"Be careful, Cenric, there may be traps. Follow me."

"I wasn't as wary as I should have been," Cenric whispered. He stares into the ground, his surroundings melting away. "I picked my way through the skeletons, looking for anything interesting. I was getting bored until a horseshoe caught my eye. It wasn't dull and rusted, unlike the others down there.

My father told me that in ancient times, horseshoes were a symbol of good luck. I thought there was nothing better to take back than that."

"CENRIC!!"

The young stallion looked up, his prize dangling from his mouth.

The skeletons were stirring, the sound of bones clacking together filling the air. It was a horrifying sound, and it sent Cenric into fight or flight mode.

Unfortunately, he chose flight. 

He darted for the entrance dodging flailing hooves and snapping teeth. 

"Cenric, HELP!"

Misty's desperate scream stopped him and he turned to see the mare flailing as the skeletons lunged for her. She kicked and bit but there were too many. 

That's what he told himself as he left her to die. 

"HELP ME!"

Cenric will never forget what he did or how Misty sounded. 10 years and her voice still echoes in his dreams every night. 

"So? What did your father think?"

"Was it awesome? It sounded awesome."

"Did the mare come home with you? Can we meet her?"

Something inside him snaps.

"No, you cannot meet her!" He rears up and slams back onto the ground in front of the yearlings.  "She is dead. I let her die."

The young horses are shaking now, and one of them even runs off. Cenric can hardly blame them. He's being a terror.

He doesn't care. They need to know.

"The dungeon is not 'awesome'. It is horrible. It kills the horses you love and it hurts you. No amount of admiration and glory is worth it."

By this time, only one yearling is left. A filly. She looks scared shitless but she stands her ground. Her curiousity is greater than her fear. 

It makes Cenric sick. 

"Why do you keep going in then?" she asks.

He stops, staring at her. A sudden weariness weighs him down. 

"I don't know."