At some point the redolent scent of moisture reached our noses, clinging to the air around us. Soon, it became apparent why.
We reached a section of tunnel that was damp and cool, moist with condensation that itself brown and foul-smelling. We avoided touching the walls by pure instinct, knowing somehow without quite knowing why that the dripping seepage was dangerous. The floor itself was only mildly damp, and we trod carefully through it. You glanced at me, and I could read the concern in your eyes. I understood without saying anything for I felt it myself. This was something new, something neither of us had seen in the darkness before, and we both knew there was threat in those rivulets of dank water.
You led the way once more, lantern held before you. Here and there pools of moisture collected in the seams between wall and floor — pooled but did not spill over. What held that dark fluid there I cannot tell you. But we were careful not to touch it, lest we risk it spilling onto our feet.