"Parry! Parry! Thrust! Slash! Thrust!” Polaris’ instructions rang out through the sweltering cavern.

Cairn’s sides heaved with exertion, his forelock plastered to his face with sweat. He was glad of his now-short mane, which Polaris had helped him cut after they’d passed through the Furnace’s gaping mouth. He thrust forward in the last stroke, front legs braced against an imaginary enemy.

“Good,” Polaris said. “Well done.”

Cairn relaxed and sheathed his shortsword. This latest bout of training had been the first he’d done with all his gear strapped to him, and he found himself aching more than usual. Polaris had insisted on him getting used to the weight of his packs and extra weapons in combat- something Cairn knew was vital, and yet as he made his way to the patch of short, browned grass Polaris had found and sunk down into it, he was grateful for the chance to rest his bones.

This was the last time in a handful of dives they’d travel together for a while, and one of the longest yet. After this, Cairn planned to return to the surface for a few days and try to track down his father. Having seen the dungeon with his own eyes, he had questions for the older courser; Hardt had been the one to tell him the moors above would shake and split, but how had he known? Cairn sensed there was more his father hadn’t told him. Polaris had even said as much during one of their treks through the Furnace. Cairn suspected Hardt had once been a campaigner; he’d long wondered why his father had had such bright eyes compared to his own.

Cairn dismissed the thought. He knew he wasn’t the only one with family baggage; on more than one occasion, he’d caught Polaris staring wistfully down a passage in the caverns, or across the magma plains at another entrance in the furnace. Cairn knew Polaris thought often of his sister; in a morbid way, it was a comfort to have someone else down here who got it.

Their relationship had shifted from casual adventurers to something better; a deep respect for each other had started their friendship. There had been a handful of times Cairn’s naivete had nearly cost them both dearly, but his willingness to learn and quick, sincere apologies had endeared him to Polaris. Now, after weeks of travel, Cairn was adept enough with the sword, and a boon companion to the other courser. It made life easier; switching shifts for night watch meant they could both rest properly, and the easy conversation between them sapped the boredom from long treks. Cairn would be lonely for the days he returned to the surface, but knew it was unfair to ask Polaris to join him.

He sighed, rolling slightly in the scratchy brown grass, and tried to get to sleep.