Whether or not she enjoyed exploring the Earthen Furnace was still to be decided. While it was the place she'd met Logue, which ultimately led her to Rigo, this place was otherwise miserable to exist within. Rustica always braided her forelock, mane, and tail when venturing this deep to help eliminate the sweltering heat. Her packs were light and rations were shared between herself and Rigo, who grew fast. His head had once only come to her hip, not he could look over her if he held it high enough. Rustica hated seeing her baby nearly a third of her size already, but also knew there was no other option than forward. One day he'd be down in these depths without her, and that thought brought a pain to her chest. She glanced to the lanky colt as he plodded across the hardened shelves of magma. Things were quiet in the furnace for once. The volcanic bat-drakes were nestled and slumbering overhead (if one looked close enough), and the eruptions and tremors were at a minimum. Good, Rustica didn't necessarily feel like fighting with the elements more so than usual.

        "Mama," Rigo's chipper voice broke through the constant hum of the volcano, "Do you think dragons live down here?"

        "This close to the surface? I doubt it, baby." She couldn't tell him that they were unsure, she knew he'd just go gallivanting after shadows in search of dragon's nests. Rustica had heard the rumors on the surface. Scholars vehemently argued the presence of dragons as no one had seen one in the Age of the Coursers. Well, no one that was alive that is. Still, it was enough to have a young colt's mind wandering while they traversed a hellish dungeon filled with brimstone and fire. What better portion was there? With the temperature sweltering, the humidity somehow still clinging in the air, and the bountiful lakes of lava it was an opportune place to nest a clutch of fire-breathing eggs.

        The two continue on, arching up a natural path in the rocks to take them away from the molten bottom and into the plethora of rock shelves. This place is littered with manmade and organic bridges, some more trustworthy than others. Rustica dismisses a moldy rope bridge for following the hard cobble path, especially with her son in tow. Perhaps she could test the human structures some other time, but for now, she had something she needed to protect down here.

        And protect she would, though not in the way she had previously considered.

        Along the walls painted in orange rises a shadow. It's neck unspools with long spines down its back, leathery wings stretch wide and gaping, and its maw peels open to reveal the pointed shadows of fangs. Rustica immediately trips to a halt and steps in front of Rigo.

        "What?" Good, he'd not seen yet.

        "Stay behind me." She warned, bracing for the attention of the beast. Was it fate or coincidence that her son had brought up dragons and here, now, in the flesh, one was waking from behind the stalagmites before them? After its great yawn, the creature's shadow upon the wall betrays that it turns its head and for a moment Rustica can only pray it is not in their direction. But its head bobs with acknowledgment, and the shadow slinks behind the rock cluster. Gods, she never thought she'd be fighting a dragon, at least alone and with a child.

        "I need you to listen to everything I say, Rigo." She hissed through tight teeth, and it is obvious by his immediate obedience that Rigo understands the severity hanging in the air. "Whatever I say, do."

        Rigo nodded.

        She swings her hinds so that she can fast the drake's hiding place head-on. Her ears are pinned back against roaned nape and her rusted eyes are fierce with a mother's rage to protect. Pebbles tumble from the now-shadowed rocks. It was coming... Judging by the shadow, it was at least the size of her, if not larger. Surely the fight wouldn't prove too unmatched. Then, the beast reveals itself. Small wings send the wyrm careening through the hot air. Like a fly it goes straight for her face, snapping its tiny teeth at her. Rustica is left dumbstruck as a plume of cinders is blown into her face. What? Then she feels something in her packs. The damned thing was already climbing into one of her bags! It's tail flicked too and for as it disappeared into the bottom of the sack, but the mother was so offended she couldn't be left standing by any longer. With a clamp of her teeth, she snatched the wyrm's tail and ripped it from her affects. It mewls and screeches in rage, a gold coin in its clutches. Fine, if that's all it wanted, it can have it.

        With a whip of her head, she tossed the small wyrm into the air. It somersaulted and tumbled before its wings finally balanced it. It's incessant shrieks are lost behind the hum of the volcano as it flies back into the rocks, surely to a hoard of other stolen bits and bobs. Rustica sighs, her muscles slowly uncoiling and losing the tension she hadn't realized had built in her body. Besides her, Rigo stepped forward for a better look.

        "Ma, what just happened?" His boyish fear laced his words despite his attempt to hide it.

        "I think we were just mugged."