Hideaway Strath you were never meant to be a tragedy

His excitement rubbed off on her and the wolfdog felt her muscles begin to quiver and tremor as she helped Vein to carve away the opening they'd made. A reverberation of panic tugged at her heart strings when the duo of porcelain canids pressed determinedly on into the dark, but pushed it down as she felt her shoulder brush against the shaman's broad side. Surprisingly, she didn't feel more than a touch of apprehension to be in the dark with him -- no longer the same girl who had balked at the mention of Kynareth's past crimes and deviances. 

The tunnel was only dimly lit by the illumination of the glow worms -- the sight of them one that somehow inspired more astonishment than the medicine man's stories had. Her lips parted of their own accord, looking on as one dripped from the ceiling to land on Vein's nose. His tales didn't do them justice, for the insects were somehow more beautiful and wonderful than the stars she had once worshipped as gods.

"Oh," she breathed, when she stepped up beside Vein -- moonstones drinking in the dark room, its centre occupied by a large crystalline pool. Clouds of steam rose from its surface to fill the small cavern around them like a sauna, the air heavy and hot as it pressed damply to her coat and skin. Cautiously, the halfling paced forward, moving to sniff at the strong-smelling waters -- which still weren't as offensive as the Firestone Hot Springs they had spoken of earlier.

"Vill zis serve yer purposes?" She posed to him as she turned back to him, ears rising in lieu of his answer as a single paw lifted absently to dangle in the air, dripping with warmed beads of balmy water.