>Assuming the air doesn't smell too foul, start heading through that passage. And pray for daylight like never before.
>But while we're going, keep our treasure sense 'pinging'. If we just so happen to find a precious stone or two on the way out, call that a bonus.
>The air in there doesn't smell any worse than it does here, aside from the lack of fresh river spray. You head into the tunnel and hope fervently that it leads out.
>You don't need to consciously 'activate' your treasure sense any more than you would need to with your hearing or other senses, though paying close attention to it obviously helps you notice things. You get a few vague sensations as you walk, but nothing distinct or strong; it's possible there's a vein of silver here somewhere, but that's of little use to you without mining gear and perhaps a spare week or two.
>You spend the next half-hour or so traipsing through the tunnels, looking for either a way out or a sign of familiar terrain. Your compass and keen sense of direction keep you from being lost, but neither helps immensely in getting you where you want to go. Many tunnels lead to dead ends or loop back in the wrong direction, though you slowly piece together a mental map as you progress. You are generally ascending, but sometimes this upward progress simply leads to
new dead ends or false starts. Through twisting tunnels, waterlogged chambers, stark subterranean plateaus and sweeping galleries you travel, each devoid of life or movement save your own. Your weariness weighs heavily on you, seemingly growing by the minute; were you in friendlier territory, you think you could be asleep as soon as you let yourself collapse to the floor. And you seem to be developing a nasty headache as well.
>Eventually, you find yourself detecting the smell of spider once more. While ordinarily far from reassuring, particularly given that you feel in no condition to fight, you take their presence as a hopeful sign that you are drawing close to your destination. This is especially timely considering how little light your torch appears to have left. Using their scent as a guide, you ascend further moving from one tunnel to the next and then trekking across a large open space. You hear faint sounds of movement in the distance as you progress and brace yourself for a confrontation. Whether you're dead on your feet or no, you feel you have little option but to press through them; you have no idea whether an alternate route exists or how long it would take you to find one, and if your last torch goes out, you're probably as good as finished. Fortunately, none of the spiders seem to draw close to you as you walk; you'll consider it one of the few blessings you've had on this expedition.
>Is that.... light? Up ahead in the distance.