The old Mother felt the shift of ice and snow from where she tended her herb garden all the way in her lonely grotto in tunnel I, but it was not that that drew her attention. With such large ears and sensitive tendrils, she often heard rumbles that hinted to the happenings of the cave, and this, she assumed, was no different. She looked up only briefly, holding still as she listened, but carried on working. Deftly, she pulled loose dead and diseased leaves and gently nipped free the flowers that she wanted to harvest today.

But some time later, a sweet scent reached her sensitive nose. She snuffled, her ears fanning out around her head and tendrils wriggling. A beautifully sweet scent reached her nose, and a familiar one; the likes of which she had not smelt in many, many years. It had been long lost since the caves had fallen dormant.

It was beautifully sweet, lovely, and nostalgic... but also it could be dangerous without the right supervision.

The old mother left her garden, pushing herbs delicately aside as she moved instead into her grotto, and was about to place her hand upon the sealed entrance, when... a thought struck her. If others had gotten there first, then something could have gone awfully wrong. She would need to bring something along, too-- a failsafe, perhaps, and if not then a cure.

She withdrew her hand, four ears folding back against her long and elegant neck. she combed the fur of her tail in a moment of consideration, before returning to her garden.

***

It was some time later that the ancient mother returned to her living space, a bitter clinging to her coat. Like second nature, she transferred her mortar and pestle to her pouch along with a couple of stones carefully made and selected for their rough surfaces. Then, she finally unsealed the entrance, and began the long journey to tunnel I.

To be continued here.