Returning to the surface did not always put Frisk in higher spirits.  Often, it felt like backtracking.  Like yielding to the dungeon’s heavy hand, its oppressive and watchful eye.  How much further had her mother been able to go without faltering — or how much further had she gone, in the time that they wasted recouping their supplies, regathering their strength—?

But it was necessary. 

And, this time, although she’d hurried them along, nipping at Tamsin’s flank when they were distracted by a gaggle of pixies in the Overgrown Caverns, she was in better spirits by the time they resumed their journey properly. 

She led the way at a floating trot, turning down the half-familiar pathways, one ear cocked back towards the others.  Vex, having given up on clinging to her mane, flitted overhead, its beady, bright eyes red pinpricks among the shadow.  Intermittently, it would disappear among the stalactites, but Frisk wasn’t concerned:  It always came back, until—

This time the soft susurrus did not resolve itself to the brush of wings across her withers, the familiar little body worming into her mane, the affectionate prick of hungry teeth. 

Frisk stopped. 

“What’s that—?”

It was so soft that it was almost nothing—

The ground trembled.  There was the noise of groaning stone, of splintering wood, and then, ahead of them, leaping with froth, a tidal wave of water—

Frisk made as if to turn; realized that there was no outrunning the flood.  Realized, too, that the water carried with it flashes of metal — glittering jewels.  She laughed instead, tilting her head to grin, tooth and whites of eyes, at the others. 

“Catch what you can!” she called to them, and plunged into the surf. 

---

Their second foray into the dungeon had Smudge in far higher spirits. 

In the interim, he and Spot had spent time catching up – Finding all the ways they had changed, and all the ways they had stayed the same. 

It was easy to convince him to join their party, it was harder to convince him that Tamsin and Frisk wanted him along as well. 

“They don’t bite,” Smudge had said before reconsidering with a sly smile, “Much.” 

Somehow Spot had agreed, and Smudge had decided to take it as a sign from the dungeon or from himself or from whatever it was he was meant to believe in now that whatever it was he was doing was the correct path forward. 

Frisk took the lead, and the appaloosa was more than happy to let her, trotting along at an even keel as he tried to look at the dungeon with fresh eyes, wondering if there was some new purpose he might be able to find down here. 

“Do you think – “ He had begun in almost idle conversation to Tamsin, when the rushing sound of something coming distracted him enough to never complete the thought. “Water,” he said, his ears flicking forwards to pick up the subtleties in the sound, “Lots of it.” 

As if summoned by his words, the tide rushed against them filled with the treasures it had claimed, both jewel and bone alike. He thought briefly of signs once more, and how one could never fight a rising tide, when he heeded Frisk’s call. 

“Don’t chase what you can’t catch,” he amended, more for the roan than anyone else. 

—

Spot had been nothing short of delighted when Smudge had officially invited him to join his next expedition into the dungeon alongside Frisk and Tamsin. It was a good sign – maybe an even better sign than when the puffy black-and-white dog had greeted them the last time they emerged from the earth. He was adorable, always bouncing around beneath Spot’s hooves without ever actually getting in the way, and…well, if the chestnut found he made an excellent friend to curl up with at night, that was between him and the dog he’d come to call Smoke.

He’d been plodding along, happy to take up the rear behind Smudge and Tamsin when the appaloosa called out a warning. Spot’s ears flashed forward, his dark eyes grew wide, but there was no where to go but in. The chestnut held his breath as he plunged forward, trying not to get taken backwards or bashed against the rocks by the surge. “Maybe we should follow it out?” he suggested, hoping that didn’t sound too stupid.

Smoke barked, his fur floating around him in a bizarre paddle as he began to paddle away from the four coursers, clearly displeased he’d been all but drowned by the waves moments before.

Spot groaned and began to paddle a little harder. “Hey, look! That looks like lakeweed.”

Maybe a lake had spilled over. Into a pathway, though? That didn’t make much sense.

Smoke grabbed something bleached and rigid, his bark muffled by his prize as he kept swimming.

Spot realized several seconds later his companion had dragged what looked to be a femur.

“Oh, no.”

~~~ 

Flicking their tail at Frisk playfully as she trotted past, Tamsin was rather happy to be back underground. The trip back home had been… weird. Something must have gone on while he was gone, but no matter who he had asked, none of his parents or siblings had been free with the information.

So, most mornings they had nudged their head into the harness of the plough, trotting through to cut long grooves in the potato field. An easy thing he could do for them. Perhaps they would be back in time to help plant too. Possible but… Tamsin didn’t often promise an exact date. The journey home was not a short one, they didn’t like to make promises they couldn’t keep. 

Spot was a great addition to their little team. They were glad that Smudge had managed to convince the chestnut to stay, although Tamsin had had no doubt in Smudge’s ability to do so. Who wouldn’t want to adventure with Frisk and Smudge?

They tilted their head towards Smudge as he began to speak, intent on giving him their attention. But he stopped. “Er-” Oh.

Musca pushed off abruptly from Tamsin’s back. Either reading their companion’s thoughts, or just knowing Tamsin well enough now to know that right here was not going to stay dry for much longer. The violet-eyed creature flapped discontentedly above them, chittering disapproval.

Tamsin, had no such feelings.

“Yahooooooo!” Tamsin hollered, diving headlong into the torrent of water, letting their hooves be pulled off the ground to float with the surge of water. Laughing easily as he was pulled along, snapping with his teeth at shiny things floating on the surface with no regard for what they actually were. There was sure to be something good.