“Thus, since Schliemare couldn’t just leave with the grave goods, he decided to settle with publicity,” Daring Do stated to her class the next morning, nodding to the enlarged photograph of the bespectacled and mustachioed stallion posing with a pith helmet, which looked ludicrous contrasted against his expensive suit jacket and umbrella. “He declared that he’d found the tombs of the heroes of Trot, naturally, which brought him a lot of attention and publicity to the area. The debate as to whether or not the city he discovered was actually Trot is still undergoing.”
She paused and turned back to her class. “So knowing all of that, would you say that Heinrich Schliemare was an archaeologist?” She cast a critical eye over the students. “How about you, Greatwing?”
“Huh?” the steel-gray griffon in the second row jumped in his seat, trying to pretend that he hadn’t been sleeping. He blinked his pale orange eyes and looked up at the blackboard.
“Well…I mean, he kind of was an archaeologist,” Greatwing said, rubbing the back of his head. “He went looking for the city of Trot and found a lot of neat stuff that other scientists could study and learn from, right?”
“A valid point,” Daring conceded. “The site he uncovered was rich in material about a culture that was, at the time, largely unknown and sparked a lot of interest in archaeology afterward.”
“But he barely even knew what he was digging up,” Ifaa pointed out. The lanky zebra with the long ponytail was sitting upright in his seat, sapphire eyes sparking with indignation. “He claimed that he’d found Trot based on the remnants of a wall, plus he stole from the site and lied to authorities. He was just a rich idiot who wanted to be famous.”
“That’s a fair argument, too,” Daring pointed out. “As scientists, we are expected to hold ourselves up to a standard of ethics. And obviously, that precludes stealing or lying or glorifying ourselves. The latter primarily because nocreature likes eating crow after it turns out that they were wrong.”
A brief bout of chuckling rippled through the classroom.
“However, motivation is sometimes secondary to results,” Daring continued. “There’s no doubt that a lot of important scientific, magical, and historical discoveries were made by creatures who were more concerned with their own reputations than with what they might find…but that’s not always a bad thing. If it hadn’t been for Lord Carneighvaron, Cart Driver might never have found Trotankhamun’s tomb. And if it hadn’t been for Schliemare, we wouldn’t still be excavating what might just be the real city of Trot.”
“So what separates an archaeologist from a treasure hunter or a grave robber?” Luster Dawn asked, looking up from scratching down her notes.
“That can be tricky to define sometimes,” Daring Do admitted. “But my take on it is this: treasure hunters and grave robbers care nothing for the history of what they find. They just want some shiny trinkets that they can sell. A treasure hunter’s first thought is ‘How much can I sell this for?’ Archaeologists are scientists that are trying to uncover the facts of the past: how our ancestors lived, how they worked, how they ate, how they worshiped and played, and all the other facets of their lives. Their first thought is ‘What can we learn from this?’ Most archaeologists will find more value in a garbage pile or a kitchen than golden idols in some forgotten tomb.”
“Even the Sunken Church?” Greatwing asked. His question prompted a hush over the class, students leaning forward intently.
Daring sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “There are, of course, exceptions…but for those of you thinking that you can go dig something up and uncover a secret tomb dedicated to the worship of eldritch gods, I’m going to hit you with a reality check. It’s probably not gonna happen. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, and most of my expeditions were normal and quiet and involved a lot of digging with a trowel and carefully brushing dust off things. We don’t follow maps to buried treasure, and X never marks the spot.”
The bell rang to signal the end of class. “All right, class, homework: an essay on the difference between an archaeologist and a treasure hunter, with examples. Three pages, due in two weeks!” Daring announced, eliciting groans from her students as they filed out.
Once the classroom was clear, Daring sat down at her desk and adjusted her bow tie as she opened up a drawer and extracted the carrying tube. We don’t follow treasure maps, Daring? Sure we don’t, she commented ironically to herself as she extracted the strange parchment with its plea and map. She frowned at the image of the monastery with the three symbols surrounding it like planets circling a star.
“That was your last class for today, ¿sí?”
Daring looked up to greet Caballeron as he entered the classroom, the senior professor grinning with anticipation. “Yeah, I’m free for the rest of the day,” she grinned at him. “Guess it’s going to be a date, Cabbie. A romantic walk through the woods.”
Caballeron’s grin momentarily flickered before resuming. “Indeed, I expect we shall have a grand time on our scavenger hunt. It reminds me of playing pirates as a child with my parents, following maps and riddles through the mansion grounds to the treasures that they’d buried the previous night: boxes of candy, little trinkets and toys.”
Daring chuckled. “Sounds like me with Uncle Ad. He’d hide a picnic basket out in the moor and make up a map for us to follow. Spend all morning running around, having pretend adventures, and eventually we’d find the basket and have lunch out there. Just the two of us.” She smiled fondly. “Good times.”
“Well, let us see what this map will lead us to,” Caballeron declared, taking the parchment. “Come, mi amiga, I have the shovels waiting in the jeep.”
“And I’ve got my gear waiting in my office,” Daring Do declared, rising from her desk and zipping off in a gray and gold blur.
Phillip studied the crimson smoking jacket hung up on the rack, the fancy silk cloth completely out of place amidst the shabbier coats and jackets. He then glanced at the fancy golden pocket watch on the nearby table, a sterling gem amidst the humbler timepieces with their cheap construction and faded bands.
“Yes,” he nodded. “These are them.”
“Saw ‘em in here when I came in ter find me a new jacket,” the black griffon with the weatherbeaten face and tattered bucket hat with several well-tended lures dangling from the brim commented. His thick Trottish accent made it seem like he was chewing every word before spitting them out. “Thought aboot the notice ye poot owt and I thought I’d better get ye over here to take a butcher’s, like.”
“Bonzer job, Greyling,” Phillip praised his contact, passing him a couple of gold coins, a small box of instant coffee mix, and a pair of cigars.
Greyling beamed as he accepted his payment. “Always happy ter be of service to ye, Detective. Bonailie, laddie.” He stuck a cigar in his mouth and put the other into his coat before exiting the pawnshop.
Phillip then turned to the mildly bemused pawnshop owner. “What can you tell me about who sold these items?”
“He came in right as I was closing, two nights ago,” the unicorn with the white mustache replied, adjusting his spectacles. “A donkey, and a study in contrast if I ever saw one. Mane was clumsily dyed red and from the look of his coat, he hadn’t worked a day of his life, but he was wearing sunglasses and a cloth cap; kind of guy that was trying not to be recognized and had no idea how. See some guys like that in here. Suspect you do, too. He passed over the jacket and the watch and I gave him 400 bits for ‘em. He bought a couple of tins of Trumpeter brand pipe tobacco, an old coat, and a knit cap and left.”
“He say anything to you about where he was going?” Phillip asked.
The clerk thought for a moment. “No…wait. He asked me where he could find someplace to stay for cheap. I recommended Ma Sunbright’s Boarding House over in the Everfree District. Quiet, cheap, and Ma doesn’t ask too many questions.”
“Thank you,” Phillip nodded and exited the pawnshop, the bell over the door ringing to mark his exit. Grumbling against the growing cold that was whistling down the streets, he headed for the motorcycle parked on the curb. He was familiar with Ma Sunbright’s: a common place for the disreputable or creatures who had few other options.
And Joseph Knoll certainly had few options. He buckled his helmet and kicked the bike to life.
“Estamos aquí,” Caballeron declared as he pulled the Jeep up to the old gate with the rusty No Trespassing sign, still secured with the chain and padlock. The Subprioress was waiting for them at the gate. Once again, she unlocked the chain and opened the gate.
“Thank you, Sister,” Caballeron said, pausing to allow the Subprioress to climb into the backseat.
“I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to get your call this morning,” Morning Creek said, smoothing out her cloak as Caballeron drove on.
“You have any more intruders lately?” Daring asked, turning to face the nun.
Morning Creek shook her head. “No, praise the Founders. Just that one. But now, to you. What did you find?”
“We think that the Sisterhood left behind a map,” Daring explained, pulling out the carefully traced copy of the map that she’d made that morning and showing it to her. “Do any of these symbols seem familiar?”
Morning Creek frowned in distaste as she examined the archaic glyphs on the map. “No…wait. We discovered some similar glyphs have been carved into trees in the woods around us.”
“Any idea what they are or what they mean?” Daring asked.
Morning Creek shook her head. “I’ve never seen them before,” she answered, passing the map back. “But I will tell you this, I don’t like this whole business. Whatever the Sisterhood of Deeds was doing here, I have grown to suspect that it was blasphemous work. That idol has been haunting my visions since you found it, and several of my sisters have had unsettling dreams since we uncovered that box.”
Daring frowned as she folded up the map and repocketed it. This ahuizotl thing…weird dreams…what’s the connection, Uncle Ad? Is there even one?
“Well, no scientist can leave a mystery unsolved,” Caballeron declared cheerfully as he parked the Jeep in front of the monastery and climbed out.
Daring Do climbed out as well with the Subprioress, looking around at the other Sisters. Most of the ones that she could see were still at work, hauling out garbage and scrap from the interior, sawing and hammering boards and furniture, bolstering the battered brickwork, or tilling the burgeoning garden. But their work was slow and sluggish, the Sisters’ faces weary from a lack of sleep. As Caballeron extracted a collection of tools and saddlebags from the back of the vehicle, Daring noticed that several of the Sisters gave them wary glances, glancing over at them like they were bearing rifles instead of shovels.
Daring shook her head. Caballeron has a point. I can’t just leave this mystery unanswered, even if it scares them. Not knowing is always worse than knowing.
She pulled on her saddlebags and tightened the straps, then hefted a shovel over her shoulder.
“So how shall we start?” Caballeron asked.
“Well, I copied down the stars’ locations on the copy,” Daring stated, unfolding the map and pulling out her trusty compass, the highly polished brass emblazoned with her cutie mark. “That’ll mark out north. There’s no scale to this map, but…” She studied the map for a moment, then checked the compass. “Looks like the closest one is southwest from here. Let’s head down there; Morning Creek said that there were symbols carved in the trees, so when we find those, we might find another clue.”
“Bien, vamonos,” Caballeron declared, heading off southwest, maneuvering around the gardens and favoring the Sisters working them with a broad smile and a cheery whistle as he proceeded.
Daring Do followed him at a brisk pace, feeling the suspicious eyes of the Sisters on her back the entire time.
“Yeah, he was here,” Ma Sunbright nodded at Phillip’s description. The elderly mare formerly had a sunshine yellow coat and a vivid sky-blue mane, but both had faded with the dust and grays of age. She leaned against the doorway of the two-story verdant boarding house that bore itself proudly despite bearing well over a century’s worth of years; the smell of home cooking and old books wafted from inside the house, an instantly soothing aroma.
“Came in two nights ago looking for a place to stay. Had an odd feeling about him–rich fella from the looks of his coat and the way he walked, even with those old clothes he was wearing and that clumsy dye job–but he offered twice my going fee for a week and I can’t exactly turn that down,” Ma shrugged.
“Where is he now?” Phillip asked.
Ma Sunbright frowned. “That’s the darndest thing,” she groused. “Yesterday afternoon, he was sitting in the sitting room, smoking a pipe and keeping to himself when he jumped up like a snake bit him and ran upstairs.”
“He see something out the window?” Phillip asked.
Ma Sunbright shrugged. “All I saw when I looked out was a gold Neighsoto parked across the street. He came down about half an hour later and used the phone on the wall there; I guess he was calling the train station because I heard him asking for the times of trains and mentioned Fillydelphia. When he was done, he went up to his room. I didn’t see him again for a long while after, so I went up to check on him and he was gone! Just opened up the window, jumped out, and ran for it!” She puffed. “Taught me a lesson about things being too good to be true.”
Phillip frowned. “Can you tell me more about the car?”
Ma Sunbright frowned in thought. “Well…it was a pale gold four-door, I can tell you that much. Now that I think about it, I did see a bit of the driver.” Her mouth twisted as she thought. “Tall unicorn…might have been blue or black. Wearing a gray and blue overcoat and a derby. Didn’t really see his face; he was reading a newspaper. Actually, a little before I went up to check on the fella, I heard a thump from the intersection on Willow and caught a glimpse of the car heading down the street; looked like he’d jumped the curb and sideswiped a lamppost.” She shook her head. “Guess he needed to head off in a big damn hurry.”
Phillip frowned as he pondered this new information. “Did the donkey have anything with him?”
“Far as I could tell, just the clothes, a pipe and some tobacco, and a jingling moneybag,” Ma Sunbright admitted.
“Thank you,” Phillip nodded and proceeded across the street as the boarder closed the door behind him.
He headed left to the intersection of Willow and Sycamore, where only a short lawn separated the boarding house from the street. A skid mark was scored on the sidewalk, the sharp coloring indicating that it was quite fresh. Though only half of the tire was visible, a few seconds was enough for him to identify it as a Neighsoto brand.
A few feet away was a lamppost. Phillip examined this more closely, his eyes quickly marking out a small streak of pale gold paint scarred onto the patina-covered surface. On the ground beneath was a small collection of shattered plastic from a headlight.
Phillip nodded grimly. That should be enough.
Willow heads for the train station, he thought, glancing up. Bloke must have spotted Joseph jumping out the back and heading down the street and followed him. Assuming Joseph didn’t get overtaken at some point…
Internally hoping that Joseph had made it to his destination, Phillip headed back to the Scout, doffing his hat as he jogged.
“Daring, ¡aquí! ¡Mira esto!”
Caballeron’s cry brought Daring hurrying over to him through the woods. “What is it?”
His face alight with delight, Caballeron pointed at a tree. Carved high upon the bark was a familiar symbol: half a circle with two crosses.
“Yup, that’s the symbol,” Daring confirmed with a grin, her wings fluttering with excitement.
“And there’s another one!” Caballeron declared, pointing at another tree with the same symbol etched into the bark.
“They must have carved these close to the ground,” Daring observed. “They had to have anticipated that it would be a long time before anypony came looking…it’s lucky that these trees are still here…”
“What are you waiting for, mi amiga? Come!” Caballeron called from up ahead.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Daring sighed, hefting the weight of the shovel.
She proceeded after Caballeron at a brisk trot through the Whitetail Woods, the cool wind stinging at her face. Around her, birds sang out from the trees and she could hear and catch glimpses of woodland animals scurrying through the branches, roots, and rocks; above the mostly bare branches, the sky was a comforting blue, with fluffy cumulus clouds lazily drifting past. A perfect day for a hike through the woods; Daring found herself smiling as she pulled out the compass and checked her direction, her mind drifting back…
“There it is!” Anna Kaus Yearling chirped, pointing at the picnic basket sitting in the middle of the old checkered blanket, waiting for them to grab it. A pathway of stones led up to the safety of the blanket.
“Well done, my little Daring Do!” Uncle Ad cried as he caught up. “But watch out! The basket is blocked by a river of lava!”
“Lava?” Anna gasped, staring at the green grass before them. “And I still can’t fly because of the Pharoah’s curse!”
“You’ll have to jump across on those stones,” Uncle Ad said, pointing. “Once you’re across, you can find a lever to lower a bridge for me to cross!”
Anna tilted the miniature pith helmet down over her brow. “Right. I can do it!”
“Be careful, Daring!” Uncle Ad called as Anna hopped up onto the first stone. She paused for a moment to adjust for the balance, then hopped to the next platform. One after another, she jumped her way across the hazardous pathway.
The next stone was a particularly small one. Anna crouched down, sticking out her tongue in concentration, then jumped.
She landed hard on her front hooves and overbalanced, nearly toppling into the river of lava masquerading as a patch of grass. “Whoa!” she cried, instinctively flapping her wings to try to recover. Uncle Ad let out a squeak of alarm and covered his eyes with his hooves.
Anna’s face came within inches of the deadly river, so close that she could feel the imaginary heat scalding her face, but she managed to stop herself from falling any farther. Shifting her weight to her front hooves, she went into a brief hoofstand, then slowly lowered herself back down. Both adventurers sighed in relief.
Anna hopped over to the picnic basket. “I made it, Uncle Ad!” she called, pulling a lever made of solid air with a “K-chunk!”
“Great work! I knew you could do it!” Uncle Ad said, trotting safely across the invisible bridge to the blanket. “And now, esteemed archaeologist, we feast! But first…”
He opened up the picnic basket with his aquamarine magic and extracted a small gift-wrapped box, which he passed to his favorite niece. Anna squealed in delight and tore open the packaging, opening up the box.
Inside was a small brass compass, engraved with her cutie mark on the cover.
“Happy birthday, my little hero,” Uncle Ad beamed, tussling Anna’s mane.
Anna glomped Uncle Ad around the middle. “Thank you, Uncle Ad! I’m gonna keep this forever!”
“Daring, look at this.”
Caballeron’s call brought Daring Do back to the present. “What is it?” she called to Caballeron, hustling over to where he stood.
Caballeron pointed to three different trees. “These trees are all carved with the same symbol and they are all facing inwards,” he explained.
Daring looked around at the three trees. Each one did indeed have the half-circle with crosses etched onto their barks.
“There aren’t any other marked trees in sight,” Caballeron observed.
“Hmm,” Daring mused as she took a couple of photographs of the trees with their symbols. “Well, guessing this might be where the idol is buried.”
“Perhaps it is buried in the center of the triangle,” Caballeron suggested.
Daring sighed. “Great. I swore I wouldn’t do any more geometry after high school.”
Caballeron pulled out a long ball of string from his saddlebag and, with Daring’s help, formed a triangle around the three marked trees. Then, after several calculations, measuring angles, and more calculations, they formed three intersecting lines within.
“There it is,” Caballeron declared, eyes shining as he examined the center of the triangle. Seizing a shovel, he started digging enthusiastically, forcing Daring to duck beneath a stream of dirt.
“Slow down, Cabbie!” Daring chided, grabbing her own shovel. “You don’t want to accidentally crush the thing.”
Caballeron gave her a brief scowl but begrudgingly slowed down his enthusiastic excavating. Daring joined him, and they carefully dug an ever-widening hole in the forest floor.
A few minutes of digging later, Daring’s shovel thumped on something hard. “Quick, quick!” Caballeron gasped, falling to his knees and flinging dirt aside with his hooves.
He quickly uncovered a wooden box, also carved with the symbols of the Abominations. With a cry of delight, he pulled it out of the ground and, after briefly fumbling with the latch, he tossed it open.
Inside was another Ahuizotl statuette, smiling that imperious smile up at its discoverers. “There you are,” Caballeron grinned, waiting just long enough for Daring to take a couple of photographs of the hole and the prize within before snatching it out. Both archaeologists noted that the half-circle symbol was formed on the base in silver.
“One down!” Caballeron declared, holding up their trophy so Daring could take more pictures of it.
“Yeah, and two more to…” Daring’s voice trailed off as her ears wiggled. “Dorado…do you hear something?”
Both of them stood still in the woods and listened intently, mouths closed. Their ears picked up the same thing.
Absolute silence. There were no birds singing in the branches, no scurrying forest fauna. Even the wind had gone still, the trees as unmoving as stone.
Daring’s eyes went down to the ahuizotl statue and tried not to imagine that it was grinning maliciously. “Uh, let’s fill the hole back in and go back to the monastery,” she said.
“Idea excelente,” Caballeron nodded nervously, putting the statuette back in the box and closing it before setting it aside. They filled in the hole at breakneck speed, snatched up their prize, and hurried northeast, trying to ignore the stifling silence that surrounded them like the crumbling walls of a cave.
“Oh, I definitely remember him,” the bespectacled stationmaster scowled at the photograph, the spotted burro’s straw-like mane sticking out in bristles beneath his red cap. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my forty years working here, but that’s the first time I’ve seen a passenger who paid a first-class ticket just to jump out of the train and run off as it was pulling out of the station.”
Phillip blinked in mild surprise. “What happened?” he asked.
“He was here yesterday evening: bought a ticket for the nonstop to Fillydelphia and waited on the platform until it pulled in. I saw him climb on: he was one of the first ones on the train. As the train was heading out, I looked down to do some paperwork and then I hear some yelling. I look up and that damned fool was running across the platform! He’d pried open a door, climbed out onto the coupling, and jumped out!” The stationmaster shook his head. “Can’t understand why anyone would call ahead, spend that much money on a ticket, and then change their mind right as the train is pulling out. I’d think that he’d gotten on the wrong train if he hadn’t just charged out the station.”
“Did you see which way he went?” Phillip asked.
The stationmaster shook his head. “Was too busy dealing with the chaos on the platform.” He scoffed. “Damned fool stirred up a lot of panic amongst the passengers; they all thought he was some kind of fugitive.”
Not wrong, Phillip commented to himself.
“And what’s worse: I heard from the conductor of that train later that when that jackass was running off, some other fool got up and tried to run out of the train!” the stationmaster exclaimed. “They had to push him back onto his seat.”
“Was he a blue unicorn with a derby?” Phillip asked.
“I dunno, he didn’t describe him,” the stationmaster shrugged. He paused, frowning. “Now that you mention it, though…I did see a unicorn with a blue coat wearing a gray derby sitting on the platform, too. Had his face buried in a newspaper, but I do remember him buying a ticket to the same train.” He scratched the back of his head. “He…might’ve had green eyes, I think,” he mused. “Didn’t get a good look at his cutie mark. Mainly I just remember that he was chewing dip. Kept spitting on the bench next to him.” He snorted. “Like this place isn’t messy enough as it is.”
“When’s the train back from Fillydelphia due?” Phillip asked.
“It rolled in two hours ago,” the stationmaster replied.
Damn. “Which bench was he sitting at?”
“Um…” the stationmaster looked about, then pointed out a lone bench in the middle of the platform with a patina-coated pillar on one side and an old trash can on the other.
“Thank you,” Phillip nodded, turning and heading towards the indicated bench.
As he approached the bench, he noticed amongst the detritus and stains that marred the wooden surface was a cluster of brown stains, clearly fresh. He briefly dug through the trash can and discovered a two-day-old Ponyville Chronicle, also stained with brown. He extracted the newspaper and compared it to the stains on the bench under a magnifying glass, gently scraping at them with a hoof.
Same color…same texture…Phillip leaned in, closed his eyes, and took a deep sniff. For a moment, the powerful potpourri of scents—a noxious blend of steam, metal, rust, garbage, and body odor—nearly overwhelmed his senses, but he blocked out everything except the wet, heavy, smokey scent of the dip.
Hmm…kind of a rosey scent…hints of apples…smells like Sirius’ Red Delicious. Filing away this clue, Phillip replaced the newspaper in the trash can and exited the train station, ignoring the stares that he was receiving from the few passengers and staff on the platform.
The wanker has to be back by now and back on Joseph’s trail…and I have no idea how to track him from here. Phillip considered the small plastic baggie in his pocket.
Maybe it’s time to call in help.
“You forgot water,” Daring deadpanned as she proceeded through the woods, compass in a wing and the remnants of her daisy and roast beef sandwich in her hoof. “An expedition that might take all day and you forgot to bring water.”
“I had other things on my mind!” Caballeron protested through a mouthful of his own sandwich, following her.
“More important than surviving?” Daring rolled her eyes back at him. “You’re lucky I packed water and lunch for both of us.”
Caballeron grumbled as he finished off his lunch. “Yes, yes, gracias.”
A moment later, his eyes brightened. “Aha! The next marker!” He pointed at an etching of horizontal line bisecting three lightning bolts on a nearby tree.
He rushed on ahead, but Daring paused, staring at the symbol as her hooves fumbled with the camera. Her ears swiveled around and realized that the wind was still whistling through the creaking branches, but the chirping and scurrying of the birds and other fauna were muted, distant. Like the animals were watching closely in nervous anticipation.
She recalled how the forest had gone silent, as though the world was holding its breath, when they uncovered the first effigy, and a chill ran down her spine. The echo of Uncle Ad’s screams as the shadows from the ice tore at him echoed in her ears and Daring Do flinched.
The more I learn, the more questions I have. But…
The cold of the Thrussian taiga bit into her and she took a slow, determined breath. I can’t just sit and not know. If there’s a chance to learn more, I have to try.
“Daring, come! Over here!” Caballeron shouted from up ahead.
“Coming,” Daring called back after taking her photographs, taking flight and gliding in between the great, old trees, more of them marked with the strange symbol. What stories could they tell if they could talk?
Caballeron was already marking the perimeter of a triangle of trees, chartreuse eyes beaming. “Come, help me with the calculations!” he ordered.
A few minutes of measuring and remeasuring and tying string later, their shovels were churning the earth, seeking their buried treasure.
“Ha!” Caballeron cried as his shovel rapped against something hard. He eagerly flung himself down to uncover the chest within.
Daring paused to listen and ice formed in her stomach. Once more, the forest had fallen silent. No chirps or chitters or scurrying or cries. No wind or groaning branches. The silence was as heavy as a lead blanket over her and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
Caballeron paused as well, looking around as he uncovered the box. His eyes, once shining with delight, were now dark with confusion and concern.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Daring swallowed.
Caballeron considered the small box with its blasphemous markings before him as if considering, then scoffed and picked it up. “No scientist should let fear stop them from discovering, ¿sí?”
“Right,” Daring nodded, watching with camera in hoof as Caballeron pulled the box out of the ground.
Still, it was with a hurried pace that they took their pictures, filled the hole back in, retrieved their string, and retreated back towards the monastery.