Kendall and Fetch stepped together across the moor. Kendall’s spirits were still high from their previous excursion together into the Earthen Furnace, and he held his chin and tail up as he walked. Fetch’s mood was harder to read. She stepped carefully around strewn bones and building ruins, seeming, as she often did, deep in thought. 

Ahead of them there was a shimmer, and soon the pond came fully into view. It was remarkably reflective, even in the dim light of the dungeon. But when Kendall and Fetch examined it more closely, they found that the reflection it showed did not match their surroundings - where around them was stillness and silence, in the pond banners flew and tents flapped in the wind. Lifted halberds shone in sunlight. 

And at the edge of the pond, opposing Kendall and Fetch in place of their reflections, were two coursers, their faces obscured by armor. They seemed oddly familiar to Kendall. 

“Do you know who they are?” He asked Fetch, softly, as though the reflections could hear them. Fetch was silent for a moment, staring, trancelike, at the strange coursers. She shook her head.

“Our veins run with venerable blood.”

Kendall looked up at her for a moment, and then back at the pond. He nodded silently. 

“I feel like I know them.” He said after a moment. “But I can’t place them. You think they’re relatives of ours?”

Fetch did not respond. Kendall hardly noticed, so entranced was he by the sight of the mysterious coursers and the feeling of knowing they inspired within him. Curiously, he reached out to touch the surface of the pond. His hoof sent out subtle ripples where it touched the water, and in those ripples the false reflection vanished, much to his dismay.

“They’re gone,” He said, sounding more troubled by this development than he meant to. 

“They’re gone.” Fetch repeated solemnly. 

They continued their trek through the moors.