Warrior peered toward the Crucible, thinking.

"A cave..?" He thought about this, for a moment. Some part of his brain informed him politely that they were already in a cave; but then, were they? He looked around; the 'sky' seemed high, hot and hazy, bright with light that shone over the dancing sand caught and tumbled by the wind. The whole of Hydra was vast, spacious, hardly what his mind conjured up when he thought the word "cave": dark, cramped, and damp. Dangerous.

So... were there different kinds of caves, maybe?

Hesitating, he looked back to the little fox. "Smells like death. That doesn't sound really good," he offered, and then worry struck him. What if she went to that cave, and died? What if that smell is her- Nostrils flared, pupils dilating, as worry spiked into fear. "Fr-... Fresh death?" he asked, and his voice had gone a little higher. "Can you show me where, do you think? Is it far from here?"

His gaze slid sideways, staring off over the dunes with worry. "It's not safe to go over the sand--is there any other way? I just-... I know a vulture was after us, and we got split up..." Warrior trailed off, grief thick in his tone.

What if she is dead? She'd been a sister to him--if only briefly; hatched where he'd been, from an identical stone, and in the same place, no less. She had to be family--and now she was gone.

His large and liquid eyes looked down to Quentin, pleading. "I could carry you," he offered, quietly--and then, as if hoping to bargain, "I could help you to-... to find mice." Distasteful. Morally wrong, but still... "Or I can teach you to--to do what I can do? To shake the ground, or... or to see things--can you do that, too?"

@Quentin

Quentin paused as Warrior did. His ears flicked back at the hesitation- Ah, had not been that far? Granted, Quentin had stopped wandering that way once he'd met Mirage. With the worms about, he wouldn't want to endanger his life and leave his friend stranded without him.

His head pulled back into his chest. "No, no- like... Bones, but really dusty." It'd been a while- who was to say that Warrior's friend hadn't been there after he had? She certainly wasn't there when he was, at least. He worried on what she looked like, though- but Warrior's question remained, first. "I can, it's over the dunes, though. Or.. Through the swamp and the white sand and they each have their own dangers." His head rolled to the side once more as he thought on, looking down to Warrior's hooves. They looked harder, solid- nothing like his calloused paws. They wouldn't burn up as badly in the salts, but in the swamp they would both be susceptible to the poison there that awaited them.

He looked big enough to carry both him and Mirage, but he wouldn't want to worry her with this, and him with waiting. Warrior- he was desperate, and Quentin's jaw set as he mulled over the direction they could take. It would be a straight shot from here, really?

He sat still for a brief moment. He didn't need anything from the horse; that wouldn't be fair at all. Not when he was desperate, begging Quentin to show him the way. Even if his spine crawled at the thought of going over the dunes, it would be worth it to save another friend. What would he do if he lost Mirage? This friendship sounded akin to his own, and if it was anything like it, he'd be heartbroken to be missing his owl companion.

"I think Mirage has.. Tried teaching me about seeing other things. I'm not good at it, but I can help anyways. We can go beside the dunes- that'd be the quickest way- and I can watch behind you on your back?" With legs that long, he'd surely be quicker than Quentin, and he could give an extra pair of eyes.

He should tell Mirage he was going to go if this really was going to happen. But, what if Oleander was dead in that cave? Standing up, Quentin flexed out his toes and tested his shoulder by rolling it. Yeah, he'd be fine. "I don't need anything. I want you to find your friend." He shook his head and his pelt followed, fending off the anxiety that threatened to set in.

"Let me find a rock to get up on. I think I can hold onto you." The fox glanced this way and that- out here pieces of the Crucible had eroded away, and it wasn't hard for him to pick out a piece he could trot to and climb up close to Warrior's shoulder height. "Will you be okay carrying me? I'm not heavy, but I might stand out against your red."

Granted, Warrior would stand out against the dunes, but that was the more relatively safe option if they didn't want to be poisoned, burnt, and stabbed to death in quick succession the other way. They could try and dance between the areas, too- try to avoid areas that the worms could dig deep enough for, and avoid the waters and white-hot sand of the flats.

@Warrior

A brief, dancing, floating trot took him to Quentin's rock, sidling up so that the fox could step aboard. While Warrior was still a foal, he was a half-grown foal--no longer spindly and small, but rather, spindly and medium-sized.

Hooray for progress.

"Well, I can..." and here he paused, trying to put it all together in his mind, "see living things, yes; and make the ground shake? Or pick up the sand and make it sharp," he added. He'd not experimented with that fully, yet.

He knew he had the ability to retain water, but he hadn't really realized yet that that was magic, or pressed it to its full extent. "I just don't want to put you in danger for nothing." It felt odd, somehow, to say it. Warrior felt that he was there, sort of, to help others. He'd learned the value of teamwork straight at his hatching, and the idea of leeching off of others didn't feel right. But Quentin wasn't just helping him; in a way, they were both trying to help Oleander.

Wherever she was. He wondered about the bones Quentin had mentioned. He wondered why they were there.

"My red stands out anyway, on the sand. Not in the canyons," he added; his color seemed to blend quite nicely there, especially in the deeper shadows.

He set out hesitantly, at a slow trot, and his gait--and back--were surprisingly smooth. It wouldn't be hard to keep a seat on him. "Which way from here, then--just straight ahead?"

Nervousness, fear, hope--they all fluttered in him, like a storm of little butterflies rising and spiralling and threatening to spin away. Would they find Oleander? Or danger? Or would they find nothing at all..?

@Quentin

Quentin had glanced back as Warrior followed, taking note of the younger being's gait. To him, it was odd, the way the ankles were so high up, and yet he seemed a lot more normal than the vultures and spiders running amok in the canyons. When the horse neared, Quentin put out a paw experimentally, ready to place it upon the foal's back- which he did, yes, but uneasily. This was new territory for him, after all.

As he placed his next forepaw on Warrior's back and lifted himself up, Quentin's head was on the horse's. "Make it sharp? Can you aim that?" His tail flicked up as he pressed from one foot to the other, trying to get a better angle to pull himself on top of this... Friend? Yeah, he'd say friend.

The fox had managed to pull up his back legs rather awkwardly when he responded next. "It's not a problem. Really. I used to.. Try to go that way sometimes, so it's not all that different." He also go a lot of scrapes going that way, but, ah. He'd survived the two (and a half) times he'd ventured out. That was more than enough for him to warrant this saving exploration.

There was the fact that Oleander might not even be there, but that was their luckiest shot. Besides- if he was lost in that cave, he'd want someone to save him, probably, if he didn't know the danger of it. If he was young and scared. Did she even have food that way?

Quentin balanced on Warrior's back and faced himself around to watch his back end, though his head and neck twisted back to talk with the horse. "Ah- yeah," he spoke on colors. He hadn't thought about it, but- "Yeah- or, a little to the left, I think. When we get closer it shouldn't be hard to see." He raked through his memories of the entrance, pulling up an image of the crevice they were aiming for.

He tried not to think about going over the dunes. He didn't want to encounter another worm, or get picked off of Warrior, but he was the one who knew the way while Warrior could deliver them there much faster. They would have to work in tandem in this.

He didn't have much of a hard time getting comfortable on Warrior's back, at least, keeping his head on the Crucible as they made their way away from it. A silent promise was made to Mirage that he'd be back soon.

@Warrior

Warrior turned, angling for the distant edge of Hydra. He kept, as instructed, to the left.

"Uh, sort of. It just flings all around--it can cut you if you aren't careful," he added. "I can show you later, if you want? Right now I gotta keep my, like, magical eyes open. In case of stuff under the sand, or birds."

One nice thing about being a horse was having near three-sixty vision; Warrior had only to turn his head a little to see behind him or above. And when his magicka failed to produce any results, he was grateful at least for his vision. He didn't know that a vulture, perhaps--or Quentin--might not see this way. He only knew that he tilted his head this way and that as he broke into a smooth trot, watching their surroundings with caution.

The day was hot. Though he'd started at dawn, it wasn't dawn anymore and Hydra was... unforgiving. "Are you too hot?" he asked, turning to watch the fox on his back with one scar-surrounded eye. "If it gets bad I could always stand awhile and you could stay in my shadow? It would probably be not as bad," Warrior offered. And then, looking back ahead, he chatted to pass the time.

"How did you find that tunnel?" he asked, and "Where did you hatch from?" and lastly, with curious friendliness, "And how did you meet, uh--Mirage?"

@Quentin

The fox's front feet crossed as he laid in place, tailtip flicking to the most minute of bounces as he got used to Warrior's cadence. Hopefully none of the worms would come for them- and hopefully Warrior could keep on going on the sands without sinking.

"Later sounds good," Quentin nodded, offering a glance to his temporary steed.

As time went on, his motions stalled and he simply stared about the area, wide ears up and forward to listen to anything coming. He could feel himself panting and sweating, losing precious water- at least this was quicker than what it'd be if he was travelling on his own paws. "I'm fine. It'd just make you hotter." His voice was markedly quieter than it was before, but loud enough for Warrior.

At his questions, he took in a breath and steeled up his will to return to the land of the living, instead of drifitng out with only his eyes focused on the world around him. "It was a while back," he first mentioned, shuffling to watch where they were going. "I wanted to know where I could go, what was over the dunes, and I found it." Simple as that, but at the second he turned back to the Crucible. "Back where we came from. It was a while ago, um-"

He hesitated, trying to remember the days. "There was one of the blue spiders when I came out. It was pretty but it... Wanted to bite me. Don't look at them if you can help it." There was no way of knowing if it was blue unless you saw them, but the sentiment was there. "And- Mirage, I think we're close to where she hatched. I found her when she got hurt by a worm, and I brought her back to my den."

His paws curled together. "I don't know if she would've survived if it weren't for me. But- I don't know if I'd be here without her, so I guess we're even." He laughed- quiet, worried about being too loud for the predators of the cave.

"What about you?" His head turned back once more to watch Warrior's black horn bob in the air. "Where'd you and Oleander hatch?" He'd remembered the name, at least. "I hope we can find her soon. The cave ahead- she's gotta be there, if you can't find her in the-" Ah, what was it called? "The Crucible."

@Warrior

Warrior blinked at the mention of blue spiders. "I saw one of those once!" he cried--then lowered his voice, looking around. Nervous excitement in his tone, he continued: "It did this... butt-waving dance-thing and me and V, we couldn't look away. It was so-... pretty, and right at the last second I kinda broke free? Like its fangs were too scary," he went on. In the face of this exciting, dangerous memory, he seemed more childlike than before, some of his half-grown maturity slipping away in favor of awe.

He trotted on, his gait eating yard after yard of sand, the heat shimmering around him. Sweat began to froth his coat, and now and then he tossed his mane a little, snorting. "What about Mirage, then? Was she okay? Those worms are big... Oh--Oleander and me, we came out of uhh. It's this..." Warrior hesitated; how to explain? He turned his head left, nodding out toward the Dead Marsh. The Crucible was nearly gone behind them, now, and he was indeed edging up on the marsh's edges. "In there? It's all mushy sand and water, and dead trees. But there was a vulture there and it's what gave me these scars. They go for the eyes," he added, offering a glance of warning--and a display of said scars--back at Quentin. "We both hatched out of black stones like bubbles in some of the water. I don't think it's all good to drink, and the air is all funny, but we ran up into the--the Crucible? Afterward," he explained. He hadn't heard it called anything, before, but it was a fitting name.

Warrior tried to think back on other encounters that he'd had; maybe he could share what he knew with Quentin. "V dug out baby spiky mice and ate one," he offered, a little reluctantly. Maybe it'd help him eat, even though Warrior himself wasn't really a fan of killing. "And there was a scorpion thing with a very spiky tail. I think that wanted to stab me. ...I think everything is dangerous," he concluded, squinting at the realization.

Soon enough he could see the cave wall in the distance, through the flickering heat of Hydra; now and then, like a mirage, the small black mouth of Tunnel P presented itself. But they still had travel, yet; Warrior kept to the border between the Flats and the Marsh, so his hooves crunched and slapped over hardened salt.

The air was broiling, oppressive, and even he, with his desert adaptations, could feel the strain. For a time, after any conversation, he was silent; and then he said, in more of a mumble, "It's hot."

He reached for his magicka, again, wondering if it was possible to cool himself, somehow. He could feel it wavering, feel magic happen, but for a moment he wasn't sure what, exactly, he had done. After a few seconds he realized that he did feel a little cooler--and a little less thirsty. It was miniscule; there wasn't a lot of moisture to take from Hydra's air, but it was enough. It was something. "I think I just-... drank some air, with magic," he informed Quentin, a little doubtful. "Like-... cooling off? I feel just a little more, uh. Wet. A little less hot," he added.

@Quentin

The raise in voice startled Quentin, his eyes blinking hard in surprise. Ah- He was about to say good, but it wasn't really good to have to contend with them, so he just gave out an interested "Huh." That sounded like what he had to deal with. "What if you found one without fangs? Maybe it could be a friend." Oh Quentin, ever the hopeful.

His head turned towards the swathes of dunes as they crested over one. "She's fine now- I think something came and attacked the one that was attacking her." The meat that laid around her was delicious, he had to say. Though he followed Warrior's gaze with his own when he mentioned where he was hatched.

"Water- like drinking water?" His neck extended out as he sniffed the air, as if he was imagining its smell. Maybe that's where the Crucible dumped out its contents. But, where did the Crucible get its water- was it a circle, then? Water from that place going to that place?

It sounded great. And, well, every place has vultures. He sunk down, though, as Warrior explained its particular nastinesses. "Oh." Maybe the Crucible was really only the safest place- relatively.

"I had a vulture try to pick me up before," Quentin glanced to his back where three lines ran across the spine, where he'd managed to escape its grip on him high in the air. "I got out, but it still hurts sometimes." He pulled up a paw to prod at the scar, thinking wordlessly to himself back to the memory.

But- black stones? "My stone was orange, like the rock on my foot. Maybe your rock makes your.. Egg, different colors?" That was the best explanation he had.

"I haven't seen the scorpion things, but, uh-" It seemed Warrior was... Uncomfortable with eating meat? "How big is V? Maybe she can't eat the big ones. And- I like to think of, well, if they don't talk, I don't feel bad eating them." Not to trivialize a prey item's feelings, but what option was there? If Quentin didn't eat them, he'd starve.

"I think even the cave is dangerous. The river in the Crucible got really big one day and I almost broke something." He certainly got bruised, that's for sure.

He fell quiet alongside Warrior once more, resting his head on the horse's hot back as the terrain around them shifted. "Yeah," he agreed with a sigh.

Quentin's ears fell sideways as Warrior mentioned magic. "Drink air?" He whispered to himself under his breath, turning back around to look at Warrior with curiosity. He hadn't been able to do any magic of himself, and they'd had that conversation, but maybe he could do that. It sounded pleasant, whatever it was.

It was. An impression of relief came over him as he drank up the rest of the water around the two of them, eyes closing. "Hey, I think I can do it too," he explained after the fact as his nose lifted to the roof.

"Do you need to take a break? Maybe there's more water in there," he questioned with a point to the Salt Flats. If Quentin was making him hot, too, he could go for walking alongside Warrior, though it'd surely go a bit slower than they were moving at now.

@Warrior

"Water," Warrior confirmed, "but no, not all for drinking, I think. A lot of it smelled bad." He knew he was repeating himself, what he'd said before, but he didn't really know what else to offer in response to the question.

At Quentin's rock theory, his eyes rolled up to try and see his horn. He couldn't, of course. "Mine's on my head--it's black, I think?" He'd seen his reflection before, broken by the dancing shimmers of the river water. "I don't think I saw a stone on Oleander," he added doubtfully, after a long moment of thought. "But maybe it was under her hoof or really small. I'm sorry a vulture hurt you," he added--late, but with impulsive kindness. "V was really small. But maybe she was a baby. I got bigger, since I hatched," Warrior explained.

Something about Quentin's statement regarding prey took him wrong. It wasn't that he was angry--just that he felt it was morally incorrect, some kind of injustice, and carefully, he spoke. "I feel bad. Because they were scared, I think, and I think they can still feel pain. I'm not sure I'd feel bad for a vulture or a spider because those try to eat us, but the mice I feel bad for. They never go after me. They never try to hurt me," he explained. He was trying not to be confrontational, but he still felt strongly that the quillmice deserved pity, if nothing else. They were harmless, gentle, frightened little things that had nothing but a few spikes standing between them and all the death that Hydra offered.

Quiet, he listened as Quentin tried out magic.

"You can do it too?" Warrior asked, and he sounded pleased. "It's nice, right?" Happily, he kept on trotting along. He glanced off into the Flats--doubtfully--as Quentin pointed toward them. They were already travelling through them, of course, but on their border, and their flat, bright appearance didn't seem very promising for water or shade. He squinted ahead; the tunnel mouth was visible, now, and not so distant. It seemed wiser, to him, to aim for the sure thing--which he was sure that he could make--rather than wandering off to a potential death in the bright heat.

"I can keep going," was all he said, as Tunnel P loomed rapidly closer.

@Quentin

Quentin's nose crinkled up at the thought of bad smell water. How could someone mess up water? Maybe only drinking water smelled good.

He watched as Warrior tried to look at the horn standing tall. "Yeah, it's black," Quentin aided him in that. He saw it the moment Warrior looked at him. "Maybe not everything has rocks. Other beings don't."

He shrugged lightly at the apology. "It's fine, you didn't do it. I was real small when I was younger, too." That made sense.

His ears flipped back as Warrior laid out his stance on meat-eating. "I need to eat, though, and I can't hurt the vultures without them hurting me. I wish I could eat something else." He felt kind of like he was disappointing his new friend. "I don't know. I feel bad for them too, but if I don't eat them I'll get eaten."

His paw-tips tapped together. Ah, well. Not much he could do against eating meat. He hummed slightly in thought as Warrior kept going. "It is. I hope I can do it again." He should be able to do that.. air water thing again, but what if? "If you can make it-"

Which, boy howdy, they were making it. The mouth yawned ever closer, and he deserted his post to stand carefully and watch over Warrior's neck.

@Warrior