Not talking for her was apparently as difficult as not making music was for Gobo, because despite wanting to listen, it wasn't long before he was humming some spritely tune under his breath. At least he was doing so quietly...?

As they walked though, the surroundings were definitely getting more lush, as lush as an uninhabited underground tunnel can get, anyway. The moss Gobo's nose had picked up was lining the walls and hanging down like curtains in some spots, and every now and then was a cluster of other small cave plants, like mushrooms and ferns. Wherever the water was, it wasn't far.