CASPIAN
/
the salt is on the briar rose,
the fog is in the fir trees;
the fog is in the fir trees;
Caspian isn’t afraid of anything, except to die unremarked.
Perhaps it is an irony, that in his line of work anonymity is a benefit. And it’s not that he wants notoriety, exactly - to have his name on the world’s lips - but he does want all the influence that comes with it.
Add in the moon, too, why don’t you.
Caspian huffs a breath in the darkness at his companion’s pointed thought. “Just get us out of here,” he says, shifting away from a clammy cave wall. Go forward about two lengths, then veer left. There’s a passage back out to the beach. The stallion ducks his head and begins to walk, each step careful, and listens to the sound of the bat’s clicking sonar ahead of him.
It had been a good day for exploring - they’d uncovered another cavern, wide enough for several horses and a good bit of treasure, connected through an unexplored path to a cave mouth Caspian already knew of. Now they were sorting out another escape route, since the main entrance filled up with seawater at high tides - and he liked to have a backup getaway, anyhow. One only he knew about.
“Ow!” Cursing, Caspian navigates away from the sharp stalagmite he’d just stumbled into, shooting a glare toward the bat. Sorry! Didn’t see that one. The stallion wasn’t sure he believed it - there was a note of cheeriness in the bat’s voice that belied the sincerity of his apology. After that there were no more bumps; the path took another curve then began to lead downward, and they both could hear the hiss of the sea. Gradually the cave grew lighter until Caspian blinked and realized he could see shadows, and cracks and crystals on the walls, and daylight up ahead. He could already taste the sea air, refreshing after so long in the earth’s belly.
Benvolio was still in front - the paint could see him now, a tiny silhouette that flew out the cave’s mouth and up. He was about to follow when he heard the bat squeak. Casp - there’s someone here. A stranger.
The stallion relaxed, just a little. A stranger was better than an unhappy customer. Still, he proceeds more cautiously until he’s in the mouth of the cavern and the pegasus is before him, wings extended, her breathing a little rapid. She is too much a silhouette for him to tell much, and for a moment he considers slipping back into the cave, all the way back the way they’d come - or at least waiting until she’d gone. But he is too ready to be out of the dark and the stale air.
“Everything alright?” he calls, nonchalant, as though it is perfectly normal for a young man to come walking out of a black cavern.
