“I could really go for some stew right about now,” Jackal said, rising to his feet and shaking his short mane. He stretched, groaning as his fatigued muscles protested. The heat of the furnace helped some, but the trade-off was his sleep quality; it was simply too hot to rest properly on most of this level.

Dingo snorted in disbelief. "Stew? It's a bit warm for that, no?"

"The heart wants what it wants," Jackal said dramatically,

Moritz emerged from the shadow of the overhang where he'd made camp. Their guide preferred to sleep separately from them - he was too much of a professional to admit it, but the bickering between the two brothers was giving him a headache. They weren't the first annoying party he'd been hired to guard.

Dingo considered making a smartass comment about his brother’s age and dependence on creature comforts, but decided not to. Come to think of it, he wanted stew. “Alright. Want to find a tavern?”

Jackal shrugged. “Sure. I was thinking we could make it ourselves, but we may as well surface for a bit. Alright with that, Moritz?”

"Sure." When Jackal turned, Moritz' eyes rolled to the high heavens. Another delay, and that meant more time spent with these two.

The brothers broke camp quickly and walked shoulder to shoulder through the tunnels, falling easily into their usual routine of keeping watch. Moritz took the rear guard, far enough back to be within earshot if something happened.

Glob had settled in its usual position on Jackal’s rump, and Pony’s tiny paws made almost no noise on the stone underfoot; their gentle patter stopped now and then when the chihuahua paused to investigate their surroundings, and started again with a quiet thrumming as he caught up. The exit they were aiming for was close, just a few kilometres from where they’d made camp, and they covered the distance fairly quickly.

Their usual bickering ensued, so automatic that it didn’t take from their focus on the dungeon around them.

“Bet I could climb that boulder faster than you.” Dingo glanced sideways to see if his jibe had landed.

“In your dreams. I beat you at every climbing race we did as colts,” Jackal retorted.

“You were bigger than me!”

“And?” Jackal’s gaze levelled on his brother. “You were supposed to be nimbler.”

Dingo thought for a moment. “Want to see?”

“No,” Jackal said flatly. “I want stew.”

“Spoilsport,” Dingo pouted.

Soon after, they stopped at the cavern exit. Dismay radiated off both Coursers as they surveyed the scene in front of them. Sheets of rain, driven across the forest clearing by a relentless, howling wind, stood between them and the town of Virheim. Moritz caught up, his floating eye making a rare appearance as the group mingled by the cave mouth.

“Still feel like going to a tavern?” Jackal’s displeasure was clear. He had never been the biggest fan of rain, despite their marshland home.

“Should have made stew,” Dingo grumbled back. He stepped briefly into the torrential rain, the force of it enough to drench his face despite the few seconds he’d stuck his head out. “Screw it. Let’s go. A hot meal at the end will be nice, and the tree cover’s not too bad.”

Jackal sighed. “Alright. Let’s go.”