The cave widens significantly once they cross the bridge, turning into a cavern before narrowing once more only to widen again. An occasional beam of light shoots through cracks in the ancient rock, illuminating pools of teal and blue. Vines stretch down from the roof of the cavern like grasping tendrils, and spotted about the cavern are palm trees and ferns that grow in the light. The abundance of minerals in the water cause the light to bounce and spread throughout the pools, and steam from the occasional hot spring amplifies the light even further. Glittering chunks of titanite dot the distant ceiling, twinkling like stars in the dark.

Water pours over a separate raised area where the water has carried sand and soil from the surface, only to deposit it there. Grass and ferns grow around the ground on the top of the waterfall, and the bank below is covered with swirls of white and yellow sand. Fish of all kinds swim in the clear water, from blind cave-dwellers to rainbow-scaled beauties.

"Wow," the pair breathes in unison.

The two walk along a wooden bridge of logs and hempen rope, slowly twirling to take in all the sights. The cavern is largely untouched by man, the only sign of human activity the bridge and a bottle of rum on a small isle of sand. Making their way through the sand banks and foliage, the two push through ferns and bushes, looking for a way forward.

"Let's rest," Sær suggests. "Do we have any jerky left?"

Priscilla rifles through the folds of her fur, searching through a comb, a book, some soap, a bottle, and a single glove before she pulls out the bag of jerky, handing it to Sær. Without a word she kneels down and sits on her legs, and he hops up onto her lap.

"Sho," he says through a mouthful of jerky. "What do you think we'll find?" He holds up some jerky for her.

Priscilla sniffs it, enjoying the aroma before nibbling at it. "The trap we encountered before must have cost a pretty penny. Father had looked into getting some for the archives, but the price was much too high. The inhabitants of this tomb must be very rich."

"So lots of good loot, then?"

"Lots of good loot," Priscilla agrees.

"I have to say, I'm surprised at you," Sær says.

Priscilla quirks a brow. "How so?"

Sær shrugs. "I would have thought you would be hesitant to loot a tomb. We technically aren't stealing, since they're dead, but I figured you would feel bad about it."

Priscilla tilts her head, thinking. "Normally I would, but... So many people lost their homes when Anor Londo fell. We still have not taken back the city, and everyone is forced to share tiny living quarters. It feels wrong to leave such riches in a dusty old tomb, especially seeing as no one will ever use it. That gold can help so many people."

Sær's eyes widen in surprise. To his shame, he had never even considered that option. The more he thinks on it however, the more sense it makes; Undead don't even use coins, preferring instead to use more easily obtained souls. Neither of them had much use for gold. After all Priscilla has been through, how could she still be so pure?

Sær stands up and turns around, wrapping his arms around Priscilla's neck. He holds her close, nuzzling her cheek.

"What is this for?" She asks.

"For being you," Sær replies, kissing her cheek before moving on to her lips. Priscilla flushes as their lips meet and her face is stroked. As the two kiss, Sær shifts his weight, pushing Priscilla towards the ground slightly. She obliges, laying down and resting her head on a soft patch of moss as they continue. The cavern rumbles with the echo of waterfalls and streams, as well as the soft splashes emitted by each fish that breaches the water.

A grasshopper lands next to Priscilla's face and starts chirping. She pulls away from her husband to examine it, reaching her finger out. "What is this little creature?"

"That's a grasshopper," Sær replies.

"What do they do?"

"They hop on grass, dummy."

Priscilla rolls her eyes, only to squeal in delight as the grasshopper climbs onto her finger. It chirps softly, examining the two giants before it.

If a grasshopper could look unimpressed, then this one certainly would be.

~ ~ ~

After drinking their fill from the cave's spring, the two replenish their canteens and start to head off.

"Wait a moment," Sær says. "The way forward is that way, correct?" He points to a bridge running over the stream.

"Yes. The cave goes much farther down, and is quite steep."

"Stand back, then," Sær says, pulling out a black firebomb. Before Priscilla can even respond, he lights the fuse, hurling it to the mouth of the cave.

Suddenly, the cavern is washed in firelight, and a thunderous boom reverbates throughout the clearing. The bridge collapses as bits of charred rock fly, blocking the flow of the water. The water gradually rises, soon spilling over the edge of the bank and cascading down the path to the tombs.

"Sær!" Priscilla shouts. "Now how are we supposed to continue? We'll drown!"

Sær does'nt respond, instead climbing up his wife to tickle her nose with a blade of grass. Priscilla shakes, her nose scrunching up.

"Hueh-PTHOOO!"

Ice crystals fly from her mouth as she sneezes, swirling through the air and multiplying as they come in contact with the rushing water. They multiply quickly, freezing the cascade in a chain reaction of snow and ice.

Priscilla rubs her nose, sniffling, her brow creased in anger over being used as a makeshift icebox.

Sær grins, planting a kiss on her cheek. Before she even has time to scold him, he slides down her back, smacks her on the rump and dives onto the ice, flying down the tunnel and cackling mightily.

Priscilla grumbles, gingerly sitting on the ice and sliding down after him, already planning her revenge.