It was Dusk, the orange-furred fruit bat, who first noticed the strange piece of Courser headwear scuttling across the floor. She chittered loudly to Descura to catch her attention, flitting in the direction of the odd sight to catch her companion’s attention. It took the snowflake-spotted Courser a moment to look up from the small pile of ancient rubble she was inspecting on the other side of the room.

“What is it, Dusk?” Descura asked, confused by the sudden excitement of her small pet. From her vantage point, nothing looked particularly out of sort; just some abandoned armor scattered along the ground. As much as it was a shame to see the old metalwork going to waste across the floor of the Overgrown Caverns, it was hardly a strange thing to see. Whether it was abandoned out of neglect, panic, or the untimely demise of the previous wearer, chanfrons were occasionally spotted in caverns throughout the expansive dungeons. While, at first, Descura had inspected every one in case it was a worthwhile treasure to carry home, they were often so beaten up and rusty as to be unsalvageable. The damp, dark rooms of the buried city were quick to destroy most metal objects left in their midst. “It’s just a chanfron, nothing worth taking home. Sorry—it’s a cool find, but just not quite what I’m looking for,” Descura continued, noting the disappointment of her bat companion.

She was about to turn back to the other items in the room when she saw the chanfron move; dragging along the cobblestone floor in a quick scuttle. The Courser could only watch it for a moment, mystified at the sudden motion. The metal armor moved for a few moments more, scampering along the edge of the room before coming to rest again in a small puddle.

“Okay,” Descura admitted, looking to Dusk. “You’re right. That’s weird.”

Cautiously, she approached the oddly active chanfron, careful to leave distance lest it move again. It stayed still, allowing her to get a better look. As she paced around it, she saw the familiar pink of a crustacean’s shell, taking the form of a multitude of legs and two petite claws. A hermit crab of sorts; a wayward crab who had taken up residence in an abandoned chanfron. Descura laughed in amusement, delighted to have found such an odd find among the many oddities of the dungeon rooms.

“Hello, little guy!” she greeted cheerily as she stepped back, giving the crustacean some space. “It’s alright, Dusk—just a crab whose found an extremely well-armored home!” she added, in explanation to her pet.

She watched a minute longer as the crab, sufficiently confident that the Courser meant it no harm, resumed its scuttling around the cavernous room. “Let’s keep going—no need to disturb this guy any longer,” she decided, calling Dusk to continue on following her down the passageways of the ruins.