Most of the bug-horses were asleep, huddled up into groups on the rocky floor in a likely attempt to beat the chill. He was thankful for his own ample fat supply and, although damp, his basic items of clothing. Still judging from Boris’ cheery attitude he doubted the cold weather was as bad on the bug-horses as it appeared, the creature he guessed he could class as a ‘friend’ leading him around groups towards the corridor that led to the cave mouth.