Deep in the Murmuring Caves, the walls made a sound like a held breath. Nell pressed her ear flat against the cold stone and listened. Her mining helmet tilted sideways. Her tail swished once. *Hmmm*, said the wall. A gem was hiding somewhere close.
Nell had a nose for glowing things — she could feel them the way you feel a warm cup near your fingers, before you even touch it. Beside her, Cove pushed their little wooden wheelbarrow along the mossy path. It was already full of good things: rose quartz, pale blue topaz, a green stone the exact colour of lichen after rain.
But Nell hadn't found her gem yet. Not the right one. *Hmmm*, said the wall. She needed the warm amber colour of a lantern just before it dims — that particular gold, like the last yawn of light. She had looked and looked and it wasn't here yet.
"Maybe further in," said Cove. The wheelbarrow squeaked as it rolled. One of the wheels always squeaked. Cove had tried fixing it with a pebble, which had not helped. Nell liked the squeak. It made the cave feel less enormous.
*Hmmm*, said the wall. They went deeper, where the ceiling dripped and the air tasted of cold minerals and very old dark. Their helmet-lamps made two small yellow circles on the floor. The circles bobbed along like little moons.
Then Nell stopped. There, on the cave floor, was a glowbeetle — no bigger than a walnut — sitting very still. No glow at all. Just a small dark beetle, dull as a pebble, with her legs tucked underneath her.
"Oh," said Nell. She knelt down. The beetle's shell had gone the colour of ash. "She bumped something cold," Nell said quietly. "Her light went out."
Cove peered over Nell's shoulder. "Can we put it back?" Cove asked.
Nell wasn't sure. But she cupped her hooves gently — curved them into a little bowl around the beetle — and breathed. Slow, warm puffs. The air inside her hooves grew soft and close.
*Hmmm*, said the wall. The beetle's legs uncurled, one at a time. Then — very slowly, like an ember catching — a warm amber glow bloomed up from underneath her shell. Gold. That exact gold. The amber of a lantern just before it dims.
The light spread outward, washing across the cave wall in a wide, slow wave. And there — pressed into the stone like a little secret someone had left long ago — was a gem. Small. Perfect. Amber all the way through.
Nell picked it up. It was cool on one side and somehow warm on the other. The beetle flicked her wings and flew three small circles around Nell's horn, then disappeared into the dark. *Hmmm*, said the wall. A pleased sort of hum.
The wheelbarrow went home heavy and slow. The crystals clinked against each other with every bump — rose and blue and green and amber, all colours of the things they loved. The squeaky wheel squeaked. The cave ceiling dripped. Cove yawned so wide their jaw clicked.
At the cave mouth, the night outside was soft and very dark, with one low star hanging just above the trees. Nell could feel the weight of the wheelbarrow all the way up her shoulders. Her hooves were tired and good. *Hmmm*, said the cave behind them — low and slow — as if it were settling in for sleep.
The two small foals walked on, the wheelbarrow clinking quietly between them, into the dark.
