Legato soared through the tunnels and Harp followed, each stride accentuated with a hop. In the burning caverns around her, her eyes were focused solely on her friend flying up ahead. These dungeons were her home. She knew almost every step. Being back felt nice. She didn't have a word for homesickness; she didn't have a real home to miss. 

She’d missed them. Adventurers tended to drag her back up closer to the surface, worried that she’d hurt herself among the magma and the ancient ruins below, but she didn’t mind. It was all an adventure.

Her ears perked and shifted forward, moving from their focus of the steady hooves behind her to the drumming behind the wall. Her breathing copied its beat.

“Crispin!” she sang, turning around to look at the older courser with large eyes and a gleeful smile. “The smith is faithfully at work! We should go visit her!”

Crispin chuckled as he stepped up beside her, listening to the hammering of the forge.

“What would you need with the smith, little one?”

“Well, she told me last time that I needed to be this big to get a knife, and I think I’ve grown since then!”