The world tumbled past them in a blurry whirl as the group of Coursers slid down the slimy slope. Layers of the dungeon slipped by in moments, each Courser gaining speed and momentum without anything to stop them. As their hooves slid against the slime-like mold on the floor, the uncovered mold released a noxious odor that invaded each Courser’s nostril, watering their eyes. Despite the panicked neighs and shouts, Pascal focused on the dungeon whipping by, something in his heart telling him to calm down and look.

And there it was, a quick flash of a look was all he needed to confirm exactly where they were. Looking behind him, he saw a maw of darkness yawning open in front of him, but he focused his eyes on the side of the slope. There, right behind the illuminated coat of Fetch! Peeking out, just barely, but it was there- a tree root, sturdy and strong enough to take a horse’s weight.

“Fetch!” Pascal shouted, his heart quickening. “To your left! Grab that root!”

“Grab that root…?” Fetch echoed back, but nonetheless reached her muzzle out and grasped at the air with her jaws. A root shot out from the soil, seeming snaking into her mouth as she closed her jaws around it, pulling her into a wide arc as she slid to a stop just below it. Quick to the draw, Terrance saw Fetch and bunched his hind muscles, exploding sideways towards her.

“Grab each other’s pack straps!” he said as his own teeth gripped at the very back strap around Fetch’s torso. Rilla ceased her screaming and paddled her hooves towards Terrance, biting around his strap, followed by Pascal doing the same to Rilla’s pack..

They all swung in an arc until they slowed to a stop, the sudden halt of their momentum rattling through their bones. Just as they stopped, each Courser breathing hard with the effort to hold on to each other, a muffled gasp came from Rilla. Her pack, jostled from Pascal yanking it, opened up enough to let two golden goblets fall loose. They both tumbled down past Pascal, followed by Fetch’s Phantasmal Hand as it reached out and grabbed one by the neck. The other continued to tumble down into the abyss.

No sound of the goblet hitting ground or water followed its disappearance. 

With a grunt of effort, Fetch slowly began to hoist herself up and over the ledge of crumbled stone bricks above her. It took her a lot of effort, her muscles flexing as she pulled the entire group with her, but eventually she was able to bring herself and the rest of the Coursers up to safe ground. The group found themselves standing at the end of a corridor, where the root had pierced through the ceiling and into the ground below, its tip just barely jutting out of the soil. They took a moment to catch their breath, each one panting in turn, except for Rilla, who stared over the edge mournfully.

“Those goblets were a pair!” she wailed at the lost treasure. “They were from two kingdoms, where the monarchs were sisters, and they had those goblets to symbolize their everlasting sisterhood and…”

Fetch’s Phantasmal Hand set the goblet down next to Rilla. It then lifted up and patted Rilla on the shoulder comfortingly, if an incorporeal hand could be comforting. Pascal rolled his eyes and walked over to Fetch, sniffing to examine her. 

“How did you know about this root?” Fetch said, tilting her head at Pascal as he looked over her shoulders.

“I… found that tree, a while back, while I was exploring,” Pascal said, an uneasiness prickling at his spine.

“While you were exploring…” Fetch said, seemingly satisfied though her demeanor remained inscrutable. Pascal suddenly whipped his head around to find Terrance looking over his shoulder, though the large Courser stepped back and looked away with a nicker. Pascal continued his search until he was certain Fetch was fine, then turned to Terrance.

“Anything hurt?”

“Just my shoulder,” Terrance admitted. Pascal examined it intently with his piercing purple eyes, then reared back and slammed his head against Terrance’s shoulder, much to the Courser’s surprise. Terrance instinctively backed up a few steps from the smaller Courser.

“What’d you do that for?!” Terrance said, crying out in a brief bout of pain before opening his eyes and realizing that his shoulder no longer hurt.

“Fixing your wrenched shoulder,” Pascal said. “It might be sore tomorrow, but it’ll hurt a lot less than it would have.”

“Hmmph,” Terrance grumbled, but flexed his shoulder anyway, happy to find it no longer searing with pain. “You should open a clinic with that kind of medical knowledge.”

“I plan to,” Pascal confessed. “It's partially why I dive into the dungeons. I’m hoping to open my own practice, and take care of Coursers in need.”

 Rilla’s ears perked up, and she subtly trotted her way back to the group.

“Oh really?” Rilla said, looking Pascal up and down as he bent his head to his hooves to examine the slime on them. “Where do you-”

“No!” Pascal shouted, sliding his hooves against the stone in a panic. The rest of the group stared at him, wild eyed, as the medic’s calm composure shattered before them.

“We need to find water, now! This slime is a mold that will eat at our hooves and leave them vulnerable to infection!”