Four days into their trek through the Earthen Furnace, Cairn ran out of water. Polaris had shared what little he had left, but things were getting dire; if they didn't find either a water source on this level or a way to get back to the humid caverns on the first level of the dungeon, they were toast. Their rests, more catnaps than real rests in whatever darkened corners they were able to find away from the lava light, were now plagued with restlessness and the attempted wetting of their lips with parched tongues.

Freja had done alright for herself. The hawk had periodically disappeared to hunt, seeming to pick up that Cairn and Polaris were low on supplies. The prey she brought back were neither appetizing to nor particularly edible for Cairn and Polaris, but they were glad she was able to keep herself fed.

Rather helpfully, Freja's hunts had given them at least some information about what creatures they were likely to meet down her. The carcass of a toad on the second day had been followed by the discarded wing of a red-toned bat. There was definitely life down here, they just had to find its water source.

They'd followed the path down from the gaping mouth of the furnace's door. The heat was at times nearly unbearable; Cairn had initially wished he had no hair, but had quickly turned to wishing he had a cloak to keep the bright light off his face. With Polaris' help, he'd cut his mane short when they'd arrived in the Furnace. His previously long, silky mane had been far too warm. He'd gone through more water than he'd wanted to in the first day, trying his best to get accustomed to the new temperature. Trained as he was by Polaris, he knew better than to take more than a couple of sips at a time if they didn't know when their next water replenishment would be, but boy, was it tempting.

Now they approached an enormous plain of igneous rock. Magma rose up from crevices in the rough black surface, occasionally flicking droplets of molten rock into the air as an air bubble popped. It was intimidating, to say the least, but they could see another ancient marble structure on the other side. It was their only hope of finding an exit. They paused at the edge of where their grey slate met black igneous. Cairn put a hoof on the surface, testing it. It was warm to the touch, but solid, as expected.

"We'll be fine. Let's cross quickly, then we can take stock again." Polaris' voice was calm and confident, which Cairn always appreciated.

They stepped out onto the rock plain, taking careful steps at first and breaking into a tense trot where they could. The plain was constantly shifting, pieces coming apart in places and joining the flow of lava downstream. Freja circled overhead; the updraft from the rising heat made it easier for her to stay in the air and a little cooler than they were on the ground.

They were about halfway across when it happened. A sickening cracking sound rose from the surface under Polaris' hooves, and magma began to rise through the newly-formed crevasse. With a start, Cairn realised they were on what was rapidly becoming an island of rock. If the piece they were standing on broke off into the floe, or tipped with the uneven weight of both of them on one side, they'd have no escape from the molten rock beneath their feet.

"Run!" Cairn cried, and Polaris shied from the magma that had risen over the edge of the rock. Both Coursers rushed forward, leaping a thin stream of magma that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. They threw caution to the wind, hoping their speed would be enough to stop any one piece of rock tipping them into the lava.

They kept a quick canter to the edge of the plains, skidding to a stop on the marble floor of the ancient structure. They weren't safe yet; their loud cries and hoofbeats on the rock, especially across an open space like they'd just covered, could have alerted any number of potential enemies. Sides heaving, they glanced at each other. They'd made it, but there was no telling what they'd run into next.