His racing heart was pounding in his chest. The breath was clumped and burst out with sobs. The head was spinning from the excess oxygen, and it was impossible to get full of it, so the only thing that was left was to suffocate. Markas, whose body was shaped by numerous dives in this cursed depth, was dealing with these necessary straws much better than Dea.
— Haven’t… Seen… Those th… ings,… in a… while. - speckled muzzle foamed and dripped, turned towards the different-eyed courser.
— Well, you missed a lot, darling. That well-fed surface dweller attitude won’t be useful to you here as much as up there. Better keep up, though, we are not done yet. You’ll thank me later when they are no longer on our tails. — A distant howl made his ears twitch. Eyes found a cloud of dust on the horizon of the wasteland grooved with lava rivers.
And he rushed outside of the dark, hot walls of the shallow cavern, out there, on the broiling lava fields. Dea followed, pondering all his decisions. Markas was right, while being away from the dungeon, pale-eyed got soft, lost his skill, and wasn’t that ready for danger anymore. On the other hand, that’s the exact reason behind Markas's presence here: to keep them safe. Silver chain swayed evenly on his neck. There slept Copernicus, a wonderful creature—To sleep through everything in the world is a skill. Sometimes Dea felt slight envy for the ability to sleep so peacefully, no matter what—howls of outworldly hounds, the roiling of the lava, the thunder of hoofs.
Marcus snorted, spurring the untimely lost-in-their-thoughts steed, and they plunged into the rupture of firm, volcanic ground under their hooves. A reliable friend took them further and further away from a dangerous enemy.