Gods, it was sweltering in here... No wonder it was called the Earthen Furnace. The intensity of the heat was palpable. Rustica mused if they physically moved what warmth hung in the air as they passed through it. Her packs felt heavier than ever and even her braided hair didn't seem to help alleviate any of the sweat from beading along her nape. Rusted eyes looked to the back of her fellow Courser, Logue, and she desparately wondered if he was as uncomfortable as she was.

"The heat is dizzying..." She complained aloud, though as the words escaped her parched lips her heart thundered to a stop. Did she just say that outloud? Oh no...

Logue glanced behind him, the orange glow of the magma rivers and waterfalls dancing along his own perspiration. It honeyed his already creamy pelt, and Rustica found herself flushed. "You alright? First time down here is always a bit of a shocker. I tried telling the rest, but they think I'm daft."

"Why's that?" She induldged, drawing closer to attempt to appear as if his concerned glance and baroque face hadn't just mesmerized her into fumbling on her own strides.

That was all he seemed to need, "They think it just comes natural! 'Any Courser worth their weight in diving atunes quickly to the dungeon, blah blah blah.' It's absolutely ridiculous. We're from the surface where its temperate, not born down here in an actual oven!"

Rustica chuckled, the animation entering Logue as he monologued both endearing and comical. As his tirade continued, she surveyed just as her brother had told her to - for she wouldn't always have him or Logue here to help her down in these deeper dungeons if she wanted to be worth anything as a dungeoneer. Cracked, sanguine rock slithered and snaked through pools of tantilizingly smooth magma. Slow, gurgling falls of the same molten rock fell from overhead before it seemed to fall upon itself, folding and swirling into large pools within the rivers and lakes of magma. The chamber seemed to bolster fangs, gnashing and hungry, as all forms of sharp rock formations hung above or rose from the ground around them. Whereas the Overgrown Caverns had an ethereal, mysterious quality to them, this level of the dungeon seemed... threatening.

Finally they started to move again, weaving through the insufferably hot walkways of hardened lava - that's what it had to be, right? - until Logue finally fell quiet again, his complaining for the moment complete. In that peace, and through the low, burning hum of the lava surrounding them, Rustica heard something. She piqued, ears satelliting atop her head and her eyes scanning. Logue clocked her and too stilled, listening and watching.

There it was again, a clack upon the stones. It was hobbled, slow, creeping.

"Over there." Logue pointed with a gesture of his muzzle towards a larger outcropping of stalatites and stalagmites joining the the floor and ceiling in an organic, gnarled pillar. When he pushed forward to investigate, Rustica was dumbstruck. What if it was some sort of monster? She lingered behind for some time, watching as he inched forward in reconnaissance with practiced percision. Again she found herself flushed watching him, strapped and prepared to take anything within the dungeon on, halo'd and alight with the glow of the Furnace.

He was about to turn the corner and see what was hidden behind it. Rustica's heart tightened and her muscles coiled. Whatever his next command was she was ready. From his position he leaned as far forward as he could, peering around the corner of the large formation of rock. Then, a whimper. Logue's tension evaporated, as did Rustica's in response, and he bolted forward. She followed, coming abreast to him to find another Courser. They had leaned themselves against the rock, their knees shaking, their body drenched with sweat. Their lips were so dry they were cracking.

"Here, drink this." She came up to them, turning to provide access to the canteen. The nameless courser lurched forward, croaking their thanks, and nearly downed the whole thing.

"How long have you been down here?" Logue posited, searching through his own saddle bags and removing rations.

"I... I don't know." The stranger's voice was a whisper, as if he spoke from the husk of his own body. "I got turned around, haven't found a way out in..." Their eyes went vacant as they stared at the pools of hot magma.

Logue and Rustica exchanged a glance. Whatever treasures or adventures awaited them today would have to wait, and they seemed to come to the very same accord without a word exchanged between them.

"Come on, lets get you home."