Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"I'm in hell," Frisk said when they finished the book.

No, Frisk! Just because there are skeletons, monsters (some of which want to take your soul,) fire, evil disguised as innocence, spikes, and it all takes place in the bowels of the earth and away from everything that's considered good, it doesn't mean you're in hell!

"Oh no, that's all perfectly fine. It is what it is."

Then why did you say you were in hell?

"Gee, I wonder what gave me that impression," they said, glaring until spikes shot up from the ground and through their torso.

*reset*

"Avalanche!"

*I*

"Why did it have to be snakes?"

*think*

"That's not supposed to bend like that!"

*you're*

"'Undertail'? My eyes!"

*overreacting*

"If I get moving, will you stop?"

For now.

"Fine, I'll go for a walk," huffed Frisk as they looked around, thinking of where to go. Making a plan with the information they had. Wondering what that noise was and why it was getting closer. After a moment, they could make out both the sound and shape on the horizon.

"walk? Walk? Walk? WALK?" The noise rose as the shape launched into the sky and landed before them with a shuddering thud. "Walk," the monster exclaimed.

Frisk stared as his white fur and armor shone all the more brightly against the dark of a confrontation. They were hesitant to see this potential opponent as a monster, as their appearance and name ("Lesser Dog" as indicated along with his stats) were more in keeping with some adorable canine from the surface than a monster.

"Walk," Lesser Dog repeated, tilting their fluffy little head in confusion.

"No, no walk," Frisk said. As his ears began to droop, they stammered, accessing the list of possible actions. "I wonder what I'm supposed to do," they chuckled as a list of six options appeared, five of which were written with the same three letters: P-E-T.

They slowly approached him, unsure of how to pet someone who was part warrior and part adorability incarnate.

"Mind if I give ya a little pet, little buddy? Uh, Commander? Um…. Sergeant Fluffy-Wuffy? Sorry, I don't know if Lesser Dog is your name or title."

Despite the awkward approach, Lesser Dog continued to stand there patiently, sword and smile at the ready as each pant brought another puff of hot steam into the cold air. When their hand was practically touching him, he raised up to meet their hand, moving his head to indicate that he wanted to be scratched behind the ears. Frisk smiled, the soft, warm fur under their fingers bringing a quick stab of homesickness for both the surface as well as a certain home where the owner could make pretty dang good cinnamon-butterscotch pie.

"There ya go," they said with a smile as Lesser Dog rolled over onto his back. The smile faded as he rolled back onto his paws and leapt straight for them. "Good doggy," they screamed, leaping to the side, avoiding injury.

Again the same options appeared:

Check.

Pet.

Pet.

Pet.

Pet.

Pet.

"Well, it's not like I'm on a schedule," mutter Frisk, reaching for Lesser Dog again. But they saw that instead of him raising up an inch or two for his head to meet their hand, he stretched his neck about four inches. After petting him, the dog's neck did not retract to its normal length. "Good doggy," Frisk repeated, one part declaration, one part question. But despite the admittedly frightening moments when the impossibly long-necked mass of metal and fur would jump at them, Frisk wanted to keep petting them. Even though they had to jump to reach him, even when Lesser Dog himself seemed to question this choice, they wanted to continue petting this fluffy little brave soldier. On and on it went until they could barely hear his excited barking. What if he ended up hitting his head on the roof of this impossibly large cavern? How would he live his life? Did they break him? Frisk finally began to question their choice, too.

"Um, good dog," they shouted. "Go play!" They turned and ran, their feet activating the option to have mercy and let Lesser Dog go free before they continued on their way. When Frisk's voice finally reached his ears, he smiled even larger at the idea. Turning his head to the side until his neck popped, a loud series of rapid clicks could be heard as the length of his neck was quickly reduced. The impact of his head returning to its normal position knocked him onto the snow with a surprised yelp. The shock only lasted a moment as he ran off to try to create a snow sculpture which encapsulated the euphoric rapture of having a neck which could slip the surly bonds of earth and kiss the face of dog.