The knowledge settled over the group like a physical weight. They continued forward because stopping seemed equally dangerous, but their movements had taken on a new tension, the brittle awareness of being hunted by something that knew these mushroom passages far better than they did.
More signs appeared as they pressed on: a patch of spores disturbed by something large passing through, stalks bent aside to create a passage for a body much larger than their own, and always more claw marks, fresher and deeper with each new discovery.
The path suddenly widened, opening into a roughly circular clearing ringed by the tallest mushrooms they'd yet encountered. Their massive caps formed a cathedral ceiling overhead, filtering the fading daylight into muted patterns that dappled the golden-spore-covered ground.
"I don't like this," Thorin muttered, his axe raised defensively as they moved into the exposed space. "Too open. Nowhere to—"
