Aria follows closely behind Fenrir; she couldn't hear what was happening in the cave. As she crouches down her eyes track a drop of water falling from the stalactites. To her knowledge, no rivers cut through these mountains. So how was water collecting here? She touches the wall of the cave gently. Her eyes widen slightly. It was damp... there was definitely a lot of moisture in this cave. That could explain the steady dripping of water.

She inspects the finger she had run across the cave wall. She rubs it together noting that it felt faintly greasy, almost grainy. Does the cave possess some different new material that when exposed to water forms into this weird thing? Thinking back to their journey the other rocks and plants looked slightly normal.

But no, this substance sticks out like a sore thumb. Perhaps the answer will reveal itself if she finds more clues. Another drop of water lands on her head. She instinctively looks up.

That's when she notices something unsettling.

In an instant, the scattered observations in her mind fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. The stalactites overhead no longer appear to be naturally formed. Long grooves carved through the stone seem far too deliberate, too uniform to be the work of water alone.

[center]It appears to be...[i] clawed.[/i][/center]

A shiver runs down her spine as she tries to comprehend the sheer size of whatever could have left such marks. There was definitely no turning back now. Yes dragons, they were the creatures they are sent to seek out. Aria remembers a flashback, somewhere in her library she read in an ancient book somewhere. Pieces of small fragmented text appear. 

[center][i]Dragons are territorial.... substance is wet...greasy... oily... mark by scenting it...Each unique to each dragon[/i][/center]