"So, remind me again why we don't just go around?"
"Because," The Prince sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "we are striving to keep a low profile. There are cities under Centurion's control along the perimeter. Through the biome, though rougher terrain, there are nothing but ruined cities. We go through." He pushed his finger across the crumpled map for emphasis.
Altan gazed disdainfully at the dry, sooty, barren landscape that infested the plains in the distance, and the angry, volcanic crest past that. A blanket of pulsing grey clouds loomed over it, floating in from the West. "I don't want to."
"I am aware."
Altan glared at him. When The Prince remained uncompromising, he spit a wad of saliva into the tall grass and skulked away. With Bridget gone, there wasn't really a buffer between him and The Prince again, so Altan preferred to distance himself whenever possible. Besides, he'd just spent the better part of the day in forced contact with him, driver and passenger, as they rode Knax out of the forest and across the plains. With her, they crossed twice the distance they normally would walking. Steering Knax honestly wasn't that hard; she was quite the intelligent, forgiving mount. Sitting in long stretches of uncomfortable silence with The Prince plastered to his back, on the other hand, was agonizing. And his inner thighs were sore. He groaned and flopped in the grass, tossing a forearm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.
Laughter.
Altan's nose crinkled and he sat up stiffly, methodically plucking pieces of grass from the crumbly dirt. The Prince's eyes shifted to him momentarily, then returned to the map between his hands. Knax dozed in the shadow of a small ditch.
"Why'd you have to come to Earth in the first place?" Altan asked after several minutes of silence, perhaps with a shorter tone than he'd intended.
"Pardon?"
"You heard me. You said it yourself, it takes a lot of energy to go through a fairy ring, circle, whatever you called it. And I'm going to go ahead and assume you didn't just find a pair of fairy wings on the side of the road someday. So what gives? Why go through all the trouble?"
"That's... an odd inquiry."
Altan's eyes narrowed. "Don't avoid my question."  
       Slowly, silently, The Prince folded up the map without sparing him a single glance. A bubble of irritation shot up Altans throat. "Are you ignoring-"
"This world is not kind, Altan."
Altan fell silent as the dazed expression, the one that he'd sported after being pulled from his nightmare, flashed across The Prince's face. It disappeared just as quickly and The Prince turned away, voice cold. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
"I have lost everything, everyone, that has ever mattered to me. I stood helpless as my kingdom fell under the power of a man I had no hope of defeating. I watched monsters, Xorvad's abominations, run rampant through the streets I used to roam. I thought, perhaps, it would be best if I just..." he trailed off. Shook his head.
"So, you were just going to.. give up?"
"Why I made the decision to travel to your world does not matter anymore. What matters now is that there is a chance."
Altan lay back down in the grass, locking his fingers over his leaden chest. Yeah, for you, maybe.

* * *

A day and change later, they'd successfully crossed the charred plains encompassing one of the few active volcanic regions in all of Arcrose. Living in northern Canada, Altan grew up more of a 'cold' guy. He'd never really seen the appeal in travelling to more topical climates in the Winter, though he was frequently dragged there by his family. Hawaii, Dubai, Belize...they'd all been nice trips, but too warm for his liking. This place? This was hell.
Everything was hot. The ground, the air, the drops of sweat clinging to his face. A recent storm had shrouded the lava-veined terrain in clouds of searing steam. Anything more than a few feet away become a vague shadowy mound. His clothing clung to him like a second layer of skin, absorbing the sweat and steam like a sponge. His hair stuck to his furrowed brows like a clingy ex. The air scorched his lungs. Beneath his legs Knax panted and whimpered through a shroud of blue flame. Apparently, when mounted, she couldn't suppress them and the normally pleasantly warm flames only added to Altan's misery. With a groan he detached one arm from her fiery reins and swiped his hand across his forehead.
The Prince shifted behind him, pointing to a small pool of burbling lava. It bubbled up angrily. "Hey, pay attention."
Altan grunted and guided Knax around it.
The ground was treacherous, littered with sinkholes, ravines, pools of lava, shards of obsidian, and way too many ditches. Once a geyser had burst through the ground beside them, shooting fourth a scalding pillar of steam and water into the air. Knax had barely leapt out of the way of the geyser itself, but they were still sprayed with the boiling brine and The Prince had had to stop and expend a great deal of energy healing their bubbling, burned skin. Knax was fine, her thick black fur had shielded her from the brunt of it. They were progressing at a slow pace. Altan had insisted in being the one to steer Knax through the biome, despite his inexperience and the dangerous terrain. The Prince had begrudgingly mounted behind him and since had not shut up in back-seat driving. It was getting on his nerves. Especially since he didn't really seem to mind the heat.
"Watch the ditch."
"I know!" Altan snapped, twisting to glare at The Prince over his shoulder. "I'm not blind, Goldilocke!"
He felt The Prince stiffen behind him and he scoffed, rolling his eyes to the shrouded heavens and swivelling forward.
"Wait."
His fingers clutched Knax's fur in a white knuckled grasp. "What! What now?!"
But then Knax was tensing between his legs and Altan turned to see just what exactly had caused the disturbance. She growled lowly.
Ahead, the steam swirled and pooled around rows of tall, dark shapes. The obscure shadows shifted silently in the heavy fog, and Altan couldn't distinguish one mound from the next. The Prince dismounted, a hiss of steel cutting the silence as he unsheathed his sword. Unsure of what was happening, Altan hopped to the ground as well, hand flying to the hilt of his sword. The Prince's shining golden eyes swept the shadowy mass.
"Who is there? Reveal yourself!"
"Well, well, well..." Spoke a voice from the fog, as one of the shadows began to detach itself from the group. "So the rumours are true. Griffin, Prince Teaberry, is alive!"