“HEY COURSER.”
Bigwig almost jumped out of his hooves. He snorted, whirling around with his long ears and rabbit tail pricked towards the dungeon ceiling.
Imps.
He hated imps with a passion.

“You look more like a bunny than a courser!” One of them squealed, grinning with it’s horrible little sharp mouth. Bigwig snarled and snapped at it, frustrated as it flew just out of his reach.
“I am not a bunny!” He shouted, charging the imps. They scattered with peals of laughter, completely unbothered by his aggression. They were far too fast for him.

“Come back here!” Bigwig roared, chasing them across the rocky plain, jumping over narrow rivers of lava.

It was Fetch that saved him from nearly plummeting down the rock face.

The imps had goaded Bigwig all the way to the edge of the outcrop, nagging him into a fury. His hooves skittered as he was pulled back just in time, Fetch’s little phantasmal hand grabbing him by his fluffy little tail in a rather iron grip.
Bigwig shouted, jumping back and panting.
The imps laughed, but not for much longer. The same phantasmal hand that had just saved the puck’s life went and slapped them all out of the air. They fell like flies, squealing and squeaking as they bounced down onto the rocks.

“Thank you.” Bigwig muttered, barely able to even look at Fetch as she trotted towards him, looking far too amused.

“That’s the first time that awful hand of yours has done anything useful.” he nattered on, unable to be anything but spiteful towards the hand that was already shooting a rather rude gesture in return.
“Awful hand.” Fetch giggled, tipping her head to the side.

“Come on then.” Bigwig sighed, rolling his eyes, “don’t get too full of yourself just because of a little favor.”
Fetch could not help but laugh at his awful attitude, and they continued along the path together, alive and pestered by imps.