THE CRAMPED TUNNEL EVENTUALLY GIVES way. Stone no longer presses on their sides and squishes their lungs. The pounding beat of Henbane’s heart relaxes, replaced instead by the ambient noises of the dungeon.

On the other side of the tunnel is a spacious, empty chamber. Water drips somewhere in the shadowy corners, and the ceiling arches high overhead.

Smokejumper sweeps their gaze over it. “Good enough spot to rest?”

The rest of the party grunts their agreement. Henbane lowers her head so that Pip can scramble down from between her ears and skitter across the stone floor, investigating with curious little sniffs as it does. Henbane watches the white shape of the rat vanish into a dark crevice and then come back, unharmed and just as inquisitive as ever still.

“No fire this time?” Beetle asks.

Halftruth’s tail twitches. “Not unless you can find something for it. But…” she looks around. “I don’t think there’s anything this time.”

Beetle huffs, disgruntled, and slogs off to go look. The rest of the party takes their time to dislodge their packs and gear. Henbane stretches and shakes herself out, enjoying the feeling of nothing on her back.

A moment later, Beetle comes back, glancing over his shoulder. “Come look at this.”

Smokejumper and Halftruth share a glance. Henbane calls for Pip and ducks her head so that the rat can scramble back up between her ears, settling down with strands of forelock gripped in its little pink paws. She trots to catch up, trailing just behind Halftruth.

Beetle stands at the edge of a massive pit, staring down into it with his hooves far too close to the crumbling precipice. Before Henbane can say anything, Smokejumper curls their tail forward and surreptitiously pushes him backwards.

“It looks like the dungeon collapsed here,” Halftruth murmurs, straining her neck to peer in.

Henbane splits away from the group to pick her way along the edge. The pit is so deep that the bottom is shrouded in darkness. The sides catch the faint, creeping light of Aurae, and she swears she can see passages stacked in layers atop each other, winding away into the depths of the dungeons.

She sets a hoof down, and the ground gives way underneath it. Yelling it surprise, she tries to scramble back, but her leg has slid through all the way down to the shoulder.

“Don’t move,” Smokejumper cries. A moment later, Henbane looks up to see them standing over her, gaze darting over her.

“Smoke,” Henbane says warningly, staring at their hooves. The ground underneath it dips alarmingly, like they’re standing on rotting wood. With the way her legs burns with scrapes, she thinks that may be correct.

“Its fine,” Smokejumper says. Ducking down, they push their head again Henbane’s neck, pushing her up a bit. “Get that leg under you.”

Straining, Henbane lifts herself up on three legs. The floor creaks and something splinters. She sees Smokejumper’s hoof slip into a hole, but the graceful heraldic yanks it back out just as fast, testing the ground before they set it back down.

“Henbane,” Halftruth calls. “Put that one leg to the left of you. There’s a beam there.”

Carefully, Henbane pulls her leg free and toes the spot Halftruth said, finding it sturdier.

“Good,” Smokejumper murmurs. “Follow me.”

Henbane watches every step they make, gaze fixed on how the flooring moves. Slowly, the two coursers make it back to safety.

“We’re going back,” Halftruth says, voice hard-edged with worry. Beetle presses briefly again Henbane’s side.

“How’s your leg?”

“Scraped,” Henbane mutters. “But fine.”

He nods, and the four horses return to the chamber. Smokejumper, the first through, lets out a wordless noise of surprise. The other three fan out behind them, all letting out various exclamations of surprise (Halftruth cusses, and Henbane notes some of the unfamiliar ones for future use). Rummaging through their packs are two unfamiliar horses. In the center of the chamber, the two have already assembled a pile of items. Small blades, trinkets, rations –

One of the thieves is a slender heraldic, colored like shining iron, white markings glittering in cool, multi-faceted hues in the torchlight. They pull themself up tall when they spot the returning party, flicking their tail towards another heraldic, this one a deep blueish-purple. “Look who’s back,” the first one says, pinning their ears and lifting their head.

“Thieves,” Halftruth hisses back. Aurae glows brighter at its spot between her long, curved ears.

“Absolutely not,” the first heraldic says, striding forward to inspect the party closer. Henbane bristles when their cool gaze sweeps over her. “We’re just collecting things someone left behind. That’s how the dungeon works. Who knew if you were dead or not?”

“We’re clearly not,” Beetle grunts, ears flat to his skull. Henbane throws a frantic glance at Smokejumper, and finds them standing coolly at point, assessing both thieves from hooves to ears.

“Finds keepers,” the heraldic says, flicking their long tail dismissively. They turn their head away slightly, one ear training on the group, and give them all a coy sideways look. “You’ll have to fight us for it.”

Smokejumper snorts. “There’s two of you.”

The heraldic shrugs. “Sure. And your weapons are over here. On our side. Oh…” their eyes glitter. “Our weapons, now.”

Smokejumper flicks one ear back, tail swaying back and forth. At their hooves, Brimstone growls.

The other heraldic slinks forward, head low and eyes bright. As Henbane watches, he pulls a sword from his packs. The iron-colored heraldic watches this, then turns to look at the party once more. “Well?”

Smokejumper snorts. “Well, indeed. Halftruth?”

Halftruth echoes their snort. “We make ‘em leave.”

Beetle and Henbane share a glance. Henbane flickers her gaze towards the closest packs. It’s Halftruth’s, and Henbane has no hope of wielding the massive scythe she uses, but if her and Beetle can get it to her first…

Beetle nods, and the chamber explodes into movement, voices clamoring, sword ringing against stone. Henbane dodges the iron-colored heraldic, hooves skidding on the stone, and just manages to come to a stop as Halftruth bolts by to bodily slam the sword-wielding thief. Panting, Henbane skitters back into movement, mouth closing around the cool handle of Halftruth’s scythe. Beetle yells her name, and Henbane spins just in time to see Halftruth wheel around, eyes brightening at the sight of her scythe. Between Henbane and Beetle, they slide it across the floor to her.

Both the heraldic thieves balk when they see her lift it. They share a glance, yell, and throw themselves right back into battle.

“Stubborn idiots,” Beetle hisses. “Let’s get to Smoke’s packs next!”

Henbane nods, and the two coursers hurry off across the chamber.