“Pascal!” Duke shouted as he entered the old barn they called home. “I’m back, and I found the moss you were looking for!” Pascal backed out of the stall he was working on, and Duke heard a pained grunt come inside the stall. He knew the wounded Courser who Pascal had happened upon in the dungeon was still there, having been escorted out by the small medic. Pascal trotted up to Duke with a grave face, immediately going to Duke’s pack to sniff at the gray-green moss bursting...

“So…” Duke said, staring up at the face now staring down at him and Crispin. “What do we do?” “I admit,” Crispin confessed. “I’ve seen this door a few times now, and every time I’ve passed it up. Curiosity about it does eat at me, though.” “I think we should give it a try!” Duke said cheerfully, trotting up to the metal doors and pushing his nose against the centerline. The doors were warm, almost scorchingly hot, to the touch, and he backed up a few pa...

“Duke,” Crispin said, nickering quietly. “Run.” Duke had approximately one second before the baleful howl of a hellhound pierced his ears, and he was shooting off like a rocket after Crispin as they ran across the ramparts of the partially-sunken fortress they were exploring. Heat roiled around them, and their hooves sparked as they struck the stone in their sprint. They rounded a corner just as the two hellhounds came into sight behind them, panting and barking in the exciteme...