Meyla’s hooves echoed softly through the dim, oppressive halls of the dungeon, her anxiety gnawing at her like it had during last week’s encounter with the wyrm. That beast’s fiery breath had nearly singed her tail (an exaggeration). Now, in the tight, twisting corridors, every flicker of torchlight sent her heart racing. Shadows loomed, and every distant sound felt like another trap ready to spring. Despite the dark tightening around her like a cold shroud and the fresh dread nipping at her hooves, she pressed on... Then, from behind her, came a sing-song voice, high-pitched and grating. "HEY COURSER!"

Meyla froze, her heart skipping. She cautiously turned her head, only to see nothing.

"Yeah, you, you sorry sack of oats!" Another voice joined in, this one shriller. "What’s the matter? Lose your stable?"

More voices chimed in, each one nastier than the last. They mocked her mane, her hooves, even the way she walked. "Seen snails with better strides than you!"

Meyla’s skin twitched under their relentless insults. She turned fully, nostrils flaring, and there they were: a swarm of imps, barely knee-high, with round, cherubic faces twisted into sneers. Their wings buzzed like gnats as they hovered just out of reach, their mouths spilling a stream of insults that stung like horseflies.

Meyla wanted to run. But instead, she stomped a hoof, trying to appear braver than she felt. "Leave me alone," she managed to huff, her voice quavering.

The imps only laughed, spiraling around her like a tornado of cruel words. "Oh, look! The scaredy horse thinks she can talk the talk!" one taunted.

Meyla’s heart raced as the imps' insults grew nastier, but her mind drifted to Teryn. He would’ve handled this without a second thought—his steady presence always made her feel braver, even when her nerves got the better of her. She could practically hear his voice, calm and unwavering, as he'd face down these foul-mouthed pests with a raised brow and a sharp retort. Teryn never let anyone push her around, always standing tall when she couldn’t. If he were here, the imps wouldn't stand a chance. They'd be gone before they could finish their first insult.

With a deep breath, she summoned every ounce of courage and glared at the swarm. Her eyes darted to the torch gripped in her teeth. Without hesitation, she swung her head and hurled the torch toward them. The flaming brand spun through the air, its light flaring bright against the dungeon walls. The imps shrieked in panic, scattering in all directions, their mocking laughter silenced as they darted into the shadows.

Meyla exhaled a shaky breath, her legs still trembling from the rush of fear and adrenaline. The dungeon’s silence felt heavier now, but at least the tormenting voices were gone. With no other threats in sight, she continued deeper into the lair, her ears twitching at every creak of stone. Finally, after what felt like hours, she stumbled upon a hidden stash. It wasn’t overflowing with treasure, but nestled among the stones were bundles of rare, useful herbs. Alongside them were a few scattered gold pieces, glinting faintly in the dim light—enough to make the trip worthwhile.

With practiced precision, she used her teeth to tie them together with a strip of cloth she found nearby. Meyla then trotted out of the dungeon, feeling both relieved and exhausted. The dark halls had taken their toll, but she had made it. As she emerged into the daylight, her steps felt lighter.

Later, back at her home, she found Teryn by the fire, drinking the tea she had left out. His eyes lifted when he saw her, a small smirk forming. “You look like you’ve been through it.”

Meyla dropped the pouch at his feet, letting out a weary snort. "Imps," she huffed. "They wouldn’t stop mocking me."

Teryn chuckled, shaking his head. "I hear imps are the WORST. But you’re here so you scared them off?"

Meyla nodded, still catching her breath. "Barely. They scattered when I tossed the torch. I just wanted to get out of there."

Teryn trotted over to Meyla as she stood by the fire, her ears still flicking with the remnants of anxiety. He nudged her gently with his muzzle, a playful glint in his eye. “Hey, don’t let those pesky imps get you down. I’ve seen less bite from a sleepy kitten!”
Meyla let out a weary laugh, her tension easing slightly. Teryn continued, his tone light-hearted. “You know, if they ever get too cheeky again, just remember: next time, I’ll be right there to turn their insults into compliments. ‘What a marvelous horse you are,’ they’ll say, ‘truly a marvel of mane and tail!’”

Meyla chuckled, shaking her head. “I’d like to see you try. Those imps were relentless.”
Teryn’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I’m up for the challenge. But for now, let’s just enjoy this loot and leave the imps to their own bickering.” He gave her a reassuring nudge, his playful demeanor a comforting reminder that even in the darkest places, friends made the journey lighter.