"What did they steal?!" She shouted, frightened.

With a horrible cracking sound, the dragon's head rose above the briars on a long, snaking neck, looming to an impossible height. A long toothy maw covered in black-green scales, ivory horns curling back from its skull to frame the sky. Alien, red-gold eyes scanned the ground impassively, gleaming with cunning and intelligence. "I see you, little thieves."

"Its huge!" She snapped, doubting their safety much more.

As they got closer to the door, Grimalkin was standing in front of it, ears flattened against his skull, hissing and baring his teeth. "Saint-John's-wort," he snarled, a cluster of dried yellow flowers hanging on the door like tiny sunburst. "The fey cannot enter with that on the door. Take it down, quickly, human!"

She frowned, "I've never seen them before, what makes them bad for us?" She mutters, glancing at the two other people before glancing at Puck and Ironhorse.

"Burn, little thieves!" Fire exploded down the tunnel, writhing and twisting in a maelstrom of heat and fury, shooting toward them. The strange duo they had come across had already gone through the door.

She darted through the door after them, absolutely terrified of the oncoming threat.

Puck and Ironhorse were toppling in after her. Flames shot over their heads. Then, the door slammed shut, cutting off the fire, and they were plunged into darkness.

"Okay but seriously, what did they steal?" She whispers, furious.

"I have no idea. Well, that was fun," Puck muttered. "I swear, if I ever see those two kids again, we're going to have a little chat. If you're going to steal from a fifty-foot, fire-breathing lizard with the memory of an elephant, you'd better have a damn impressive riddle, or you wait until it isn't home. And who the hell put Saint-John's-wort over the door? I'm feeling very unwelcome right now."

A flashlight clicked on in the shadows. There were three silhouettes at the end of the beam. Two were recognizable; the tiny girl with furry ears and the green-skinned boy they'd met in the Briars. The last, the one holding the flashlight, was tall and skinny, with thick dark hair, a scraggly goatee, and two ridged horns curling up from his brow. He held a cross in the other hand, raised in front of his face like he was warding off a vampire.

Puck laughed. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but unless you're a priest, that isn't going to work. Neither is the salt you have poured across the floor. I'm not your average bogey."

"Faeries," spit goatee boy, looking pale. "How did you get in here? You'd better leave right now, if you know whats good for you. She'll tear your guts out and make harp strings with them."