Jasmine was a mess of sweat and ash. The stink of burned hair filled the little chamber Logue swore up and down would be safe for resting. She wasn't sure believed him-- neither did she have much choice. All Jasmine had, she'd spent. The very thought of clambering back to her feet and pushing on made her head spin, and so she lay flat to the warm stone and did her best not to breathe too deeply of the burning. 

Logue, meanwhile, seemed perfectly accustomed to the trials of the Furnace. He lay in the entryway with his back turned to his charge. Resting, certainly, but still so collected. He looked as though he could spring up and run several miles more, if he had to. Jasmine felt jealousy nipping at her throat. She knew she'd be weaker than msot professional Coursers, but seeing it so clearly burned. 

Jasmine could have gone the rest of the night pouting in petulant silence. Her guide had other plans. He heaved a sigh and shifted, lying deeper into his side-- settling in for the long haul, apparently. When he spoke, he did so without looking. Perhaps he could tell Jasmine's temper smoldered. 

"Why'd you come to the dungeons, Miss Jasmine?" he asked. Logue spoke with the weight of the earth in his voice, the grinding of riverstones. Matter-of-fact and devoid of frivolous decoration... "Forgive me for sayin' it, but you don't seem the type." 

Jasmine considered not answering the question at all, but she relented. How could she not? There was a certain charm to Logue... 

"I dreamed about them," Jasmine answered in a whisper. "Or-- I think I did. So far I haven't seen anything like what I saw in my dreams..." 

"Couldn't it have been nothin' more than a dream?" Logue pressed. 

"No," Jasmine answered, too quickly, too sharply. No... it could not be just a dream. 

Logue, for his part, did not press her further. He turned back to keeping watching in peacable silence, and Jasmine-- nearly as embarrassed as she was exhausted-- took too long to finally drift to sleep.