Arthur didn't rush in this time. The cave stretched deeper than he'd expected, the entrance widening just enough to let a weak strip of light spill across uneven ground before fading into shadow. Past that, everything blurred into dark shapes and shifting outlines.
The air felt wrong—thick, stale, heavy with damp earth and something sharper underneath.
Movement.
Not one. Several.
Arthur stopped just inside, lowering himself instinctively as his eyes adjusted. At first, it was just motion, just small shifts in the dark, but slowly the shapes became clearer. Ants. More than before. Some larger, heavier. Others smaller, moving quickly between them. None of it was random. There was structure to it.
A colony.
"Just my luck."
He leaned back slightly against the cave wall, the cold stone grounding him. Charging in wasn't an option. Not here.
His gaze dropped to the ground, then to himself—his arms, his clothes, the faint sweat on his skin. He paused.
"Right."
Without wasting time, Arthur crouched and dragged his hand through the dirt. The rough soil scraped against his palm as he scooped it up and smeared it across his forearms, his neck, his clothes. It felt stupid, but it also felt necessary. He didn't stop until the cleaner scent of sweat and skin was buried under dust and earth.
Behind him, the husky watched, head tilting slightly at first. Then it shifted—not closer, but lower. Its body dipped subtly, its presence dulled. Arthur didn't fully see it, but he felt it. The air around the dog seemed quieter, like it had been pushed into the background.
Arthur frowned slightly. "You can hide it?"
No response. He didn't need one.
"Good. Stay like that."
He turned forward and began to move, slow and deliberate. Every step was placed carefully, his foot testing the ground before committing. No loose stones. No sudden shifts. The ants nearby continued working, dragging debris, shifting rocks, moving past each other without pause.
None of them reacted to him.
That should've been comforting, It wasn't.
Arthur stayed low, weaving along the edges of their movement. He never crossed directly through their path, never got close enough to risk contact. Every time one turned, he froze, waited, then moved again. Time stretched, each step deliberate, controlled, quiet.
The tunnel narrowed as he went deeper, the walls pressing in just enough to force him to adjust his posture. Then it opened again into a wider chamber.
This one felt different.
Less movement. Fewer ants.
And something else.
Arthur slowed. "That's isn't natural."
In the center of the chamber, half-buried under dirt and stone, something caught what little light there was. It didn't shine like metal, but it stood out anyway, too clean, too intact.
Arthur crouched lower, scanning first.
Two ants nearby. One moving away slowly. One still.
Waiting.
He didn't move yet. He watched, tracking their rhythm, counting the gaps between their movements. Then he shifted.
One step. Pause. Another.
Closer.
Still nothing.
The stationary ant didn't react. The other kept moving.
Arthur exhaled quietly.
Now he could see it clearly.
Not a rock.
A chest.
Old, worn, edges chipped, its surface dulled by time—but whole. Intact. Placed.
Arthur felt something tighten in his chest. "…you're kidding."
He glanced at the ants again. No change. Good.
Slowly, he reached forward and brushed away the dirt covering the top. The layer crumbled easily, revealing a solid, crafted surface underneath. Not natural. Not something that belonged here.
The husky moved closer behind him, silent as ever.
Arthur didn't open it immediately. His hand rested on the lid as he thought. Things like this didn't just sit in the middle of a nest for no reason.
There was always a catch.
He exhaled quietly. "If something jumps out, I'm blaming you."
No reaction.
Arthur huffed softly, then, slower this time.
He began to open it.