Calal moved through the tunnel carefully, each step deliberate and quiet. The damp stone underfoot was slick with the remnants of water dripping from the jagged ceiling above. His eyes flicked back and forth, adjusting to the dim light.

[color=cyan]"Just like any other hunt,"[/color] he muttered quietly to himself, his lips barely moving. His voice was steady, but there was a tightness in it, a thin veil over the nerves crawling up his spine. This was familiar. It was what he knew best, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Though he seemed a bit confused, as the group ahead talked about cows and cattle. As if they had been in such a situation before... or maybe it was him who was far too nervous... calm? What was it he felt right now? Calal realized there was a slight bit of nerves. But he did just get freed from a prison. [color=cyan] "We really have dug ourselves a hole haven't we?" [/color] Calal would joke out loud trying to ease his own tension.

While he was joking he was trying to focus as well. He wanted to treat this like a hunt, that's how he could get out of this. That's how he could get home to see his wife and kids. With each passing moment—he could feel the slight brush of the cold air against his skin, hear every small scrape of stone, each shift that wasn’t quite natural. He knew that if something was coming, it would give itself away somehow. He just had to be ready. For whatever, or whoever, was ahead of them—or behind.