Astus sat up, scratched his ear violently, then settled back down on his cushion. Bartok smiled. Hell-hound Astus might be, but if you ignored the ever present flame flickering at the back of his throat, he was just like any other dog.

Bartok reached down into the bowl beside his chair and selected a large green gem, tossing it for Astus who leaped up, tail wagging, to chase after it. Obediently the dog brought the gem back, only slightly singed.

“Oh, good boy,” Bartok crooned. “Such a good boy. Do you want to chase it again?”

Astus cocked his head to the side, his whole back half swaying with the force of his tail wagging. Bartok tossed the gem again, chuckling as Astus stumbled over his own feet in his haste to chase it.

“Let us settle in and watch the goings-on,” he said when Astus brought the gem back. He pointed the bowl, and the well-trained hound dropped the gem into it, then plopped down onto his cushion once more.

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Bartok waved a hand at the bowl, and the gems shimmered and disappeared, replaced by a picture of a lush green island, and the six ragtag adventurers.

Astus gazed at the picture intently then whined, sticking his nose into the bowl to sniff at the picture where the halfling sat a little way apart from the group, looking miserable. He looked over his shoulder at Bartok and sneezed, then nosed at the bowl-screen again.

“Yes, the halfling does appear to be sick,” Bartok confirmed with a grin.

Astus huffed out a breath and shook himself vigorously.

“I rather thought the elf boy would be the first to go,” Bartok mused. “Still, he may yet prove useful. The halfling rubs them all up the wrong way. They could spare her, could they not?”

Incapable of actual speech, Astus just yawned widely and closed his eyes.

“Very well. I will wake you when she dies,” Bartok crooned, scratching the hound between his ears gently.