It was Locke that noticed it first. 

She veered away from Apophis and Terrence on silent, tawny wings.  Apophis looked up — saw the sharp yellow of her eyes focus, fixate. 

“Locke,” they called, and, when she did not immediately return, “Terrence.  Wait.” 

Ahead of them, Terrence turned with a blink.  He had been in the midst of saying something, although Apophis had largely tuned him out, allowing the chatter to become a vaguely pleasant background noise. 

“Huh?” 

“She’s found something.”  Apophis cocked their head, watching, slowing from their steady trot across the Earthen Furnace’s dry, hard ground.  Locke cut a long, wide circle.  She did not steep into a dive for prey, did not seem alarmed; merely clicked her beak and circled again and waited. 

“It’s probably nothing—”

Apophis had already turned after her, though, casting a mild glance over their shoulder at Terrence.  I trust her more than I trust you, they did not say — they were paying Terrence to keep them alive, after all, and coin was a very different vested interest than Locke’s attachment to them — and crossed the burned-out expanse of the Furnace after the owl. 

After a moment, they heard the resigned click of Terrence’s hoofsteps, too. 

 By the time they reached her, Locke had circled downward to land.  She looked very at home in the red clay, digging with her talons among the sooty soil.

There was a large painted circle stretching around her. 

Apophis snuffled among the red, flaking lines.  They didn’t recognize the symbols within it, except for the centermost one — a crude approximation of a courser’s head — but they recognized the spirit of it.  They’d seen things like this among the Wizard’s wares — scrolls that they had ferried to dungeon-goers on its behalf. 

The smell, too—

“It’s nothing.” Terrence, catching up at their heels, scraping one hoof across the old lines.  “Been here forever.  Look, it’s coming up at the edges here and everything.” 

“Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s nothing.” 

“I mean, it doesn’t do anything, is all.”  Terrence huffed.  “We’d better get going.  You wanted to make it to the other side of the magma fields before night, didn’t you?” 

Apophis blinked.  They had momentarily forgotten the scrolls they carried on their back.  Something about the smell—

“Yes.  You’re right.” 

Locke was picking at the edges of the pentacle, too, scratching her talons through the paint.  She creaked indignantly when Apophis nosed her away from it, but hopped and flapped up to their back, curling her talons around the straps of their pack.

Apophis turned towards Terrence.  “Lead the way.” 

“Gladly.”