Stepping forward through the ankle-deep snow, Grandt and his companions came across what looked like a pair of tables sitting near a sheer rock wall. One of the tables had four legs and a drawer at its front, as well as a fork and a plate holding something like spaghetti with red sauce. The other table was round, with a single leg that disappeared beneath the snow. There was an unplugged microwave atop it.

"Strange," Grandt said, stepping forward when he noticed a wet note sitting in the snow.

He carefully picked it up and brushed the snow from its corners. The handwriting was large and – for lack of a better word – poor, scribbled in such a way that Grandt could only barely make it out. It looked like it had been written quickly, without any regard for quality.

"Is this Papyrus's handwriting?" he asked, handing the note off to Sans.

Sans looked it over for a moment and handed it back. "Yep, that's him. When he gets excited, he's not exactly a good writer."

"I guess not…" Grandt murmured, holding it close to his face as he began to read aloud.

"Human! Please enjoy this spaghetti. (Little do you know, this spaghetti is a trap designed to entice you! You'll be so busy eating it that you won't realize that you aren't progressing! Thoroughly japed again by the great Papyrus!) Nyeh-heh-heh, Papyrus."

"Hey, ya even got his laugh right," Sans said. "Good going."

Toriel stepped forward to investigate the table. "Do you think it is safe?"

"Nope," Sans said, "but probably not for the reason you're asking."

Grandt casually took the fork from the table, wincing a bit as the cold metal touched his skin, and tapped it against the spaghetti. The sound it made more resembled metal hitting against wood than it did metal hitting against cooked food. He looked back at Toriel and Sans with a blank expression.

"Well, now we know why the microwave's here."

"The unplugged microwave," Toriel pointed out. Then she blinked. "Wait, Grandt, are you seriously considering eating that?"

"I'm not in the business of wasting food," Grandt replied. "Besides, I've eaten a lot of bad things in my life – I once had to be hospitalized for salmonella when I accidentally undercooked some chicken. One more culinary disaster won't kill me."

"It might," Sans chuckled.

"Well, now you're just making me curious."

Grandt reached out and grabbed the side of the spaghetti, tearing a frozen chunk away from the rest of the pile. He lifted the chunk to his mouth and took a small bite. He chewed quietly for a moment, and then he swallowed.

"How is it?" Toriel asked.

"Raw." Grandt casually slipped the chunk into his left-hand pocket. "It's not terrible, but it's pretty bad. Does he cook often?"

"Eh, not really," Sans said, shrugging. "He just started taking lessons."

"Well, that makes some sense," Grandt said as he began walking forward again. "It takes a while to learn any skill, and cooking can be very difficult for beginners." He chuckled. "Maybe I can give him some advice."

Sans was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I think he'd like that."

They walked a bit more in silence before they came upon a large, open cliff with more trees and a downward slope directly to their right. To their left sat a sign, on which the words "Warning: Dog Marriage" were written in the same large, blocky, and disjointed letters that had appeared when Grandt had passed the first sentry station. Grandt stared at the sign for a moment, reading and rereading it before he turned back to Sans and Toriel with a cocked eyebrow.

Sans chuckled. "Looks like Doggo's been having fun."

"Doggo?" Grandt asked.

"Yep. He's a dog, too." Sans stepped up to the sign. "They all kinda mess with each other."

"Sounds like a fun group," Toriel said, smiling. "I do not believe I've had the chance to meet them, though."

"Well, I suppose we'll have to," Grandt said.

He stepped forward, ignoring the downward slope for the moment, until he reached a small inset square of snow not far away from the sign. Why was that there? Thus far, every time he'd seen such a section of snow, it meant there was something beneath it. The wiring for the electricity maze, table legs, whatever sort of dignity he'd buried when he'd tried to solve that word search… There was always something.

Grandt set his hand against the snow. He ran it over the surface for a bit, feeling to make sure there wasn't anything directly under it. Then, when he felt nothing unusual, he dug his hand into the snow, this time seeing if there was anything hidden deeper in. After a moment, his hand hit against something metallic.

Grandt smirked to himself. "There we go…" he murmured, and he began to dig away at that particular section until a switch became visible. Then he flicked the switch off and stood back up to his full height.

"Having fun?" Sans asked from behind him.

Grandt turned around and grinned. "A bit. It's nice that I'm at least starting to get a feel for this place, if nothing else."

"Is that right?" Sans replied.

"Well… I-I hope so, at least," Grandt answered, scratching his head. "God knows I could use even a little bit of knowledge."

He looked away from Sans, glancing about the whole area for a moment. "I'll be honest, though. I'm shocked we haven't met too many monsters around here."

"You were expecting more?"

"I was expecting any."

The two of them began walking back towards the area's entrance. The snow was heavy, but they didn't seem to notice it as they spoke.

"Eh, it's not too surprising," Sans said. "After all, today's a holiday."

"Really?" Grandt asked.

Sans nodded. "Yep. That's why ya won't see a lot of monsters out now. Just ones that're really dedicated to the job."

"Like yourself?" Grandt said, smirking.

"It's a day to spend with your family," Sans replied. "And lemme tell ya, Papyrus is having the time of his life."

"Really? He doesn't seem especially–"

"Trust me." Sans looked over at him with what looked like a genuine smile. "If he didn't like this, do ya think he'd look so excited every time you show up?"

Grandt looked at him for a moment, uneasily, and then he nodded. "Well, alright. If you say so."

He noticed Toriel waving at them and waved back. She stepped over slowly, looking a bit giddy, and stopped in front of him and Sans.

"Hey, Toriel," Sans said. "Did ya find something?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "There were a large number of tall spikes at the bottom of this slope. I was going to inform you both about them, but then they suddenly vanished underground!" She looked between them. "I'm going to guess you both caused it."

"He did." Sans placed a hand on Grandt's shoulder – odd, given that he had to raise his whole arm up in order to reach it. "Turns out this guy's some sorta puzzle-solving master."

Grandt snorted. "Now that's completely untrue."

"Nah, he's pretty good." He looked over at Toriel. "He puzzled it out pretty quickly."

Toriel laughed. "Well, I suppose wisdom does come with age."

Grandt winced and looked down. "I-I wouldn't…" He trailed off and sighed.

"Anyway," Sans said, looking down the slope, "we should probably get goin'. Papyrus is gonna be cranky if no one comes to see him soon."

"Alright," Grandt replied, nodding slowly. "Just down this slope, right?"

Toriel nodded. "That's right. Ah, watch your step there, Grandt! Some of the snow is very slippery."

Grandt stepped slowly, watching the snow in front of him like a hawk watching its prey – or, perhaps more accurately, like a mouse watching a circling hawk above. He walked deliberately, taking such small steps that his feet barely left the ground and barely were not touching one another, until he finally reached the bottom.

And then he looked to his left and saw Sans grinning at him.

"What the…?! But I–I walked down before you!"

"Turns out I'm really fast," Sans said, chuckling.

"I guess you'd have to be…" Grandt murmured, rubbing the back of his head.

He looked over to where Toriel had recently come down, then back to the path forward. There were telltale marks of where the spikes had once been – holes in the snow, of course, but a closer investigation revealed a strange sort of metal grid from which the spikes had emerged. Most of it was covered with snow, giving him the impression that the barricade had either not been used often or that snow accumulation in this area of the Underground was greater than he'd thought.

But still, he had to wonder exactly how such a puzzle worked. Was it wireless? That made the most sense, certainly, but how would monsters have access to such technology? It had been decades since they'd been imprisoned in the Underground – nearly eighty years, as Grandt recalled. How was their technology so advanced, then? Perhaps they–

"Grandt?" Toriel asked. "What are you staring at?"

He blinked, and then realized he'd been doing just that. "Ah… It's nothing."

"I see…" Toriel stared at him, obviously not believing him.

"I was thinking about those spikes – the, ah… the barricade." Grandt pulled at his beard. "It's a bit curious, that's all."

"Whaddaya mean?" Sans asked as they began walking again.

"Well, it's just…" Grandt replied. "It's just, how does it work?"

Toriel shrugged. "I am afraid that I don't have an answer. I was in the Ruins for a long time. Most of the puzzles in there are rather primitive, by comparison. What about you, Sans?"

Sans snorted. "Please. I'm a comedian, not a mechanist."

"So you're a comic, Sans?" Grandt asked, struggling to hide his smirk.

"… I don't get it."

"Yes, you do."

"You can't prove anything."

Toriel suddenly stopped the two of them and pointed ahead at a small, short bridge situated over a crevasse. It wasn't a particularly long crevasse – in fact, Grandt presumed that he could easily jump across if he had to –, but the bridge looked a bit rotten and in need of replacing. It was enough that a child or Sans could probably cross without having to worry, but anyone heavier would probably be a bad idea.

"Here, I will go first," Toriel said, and she began to walk across the small bridge without a second thought.

It didn't so much as quiver beneath her, and – using that knowledge – Grandt stepped across it slowly. Once again, there was nary of even the smallest shakes.

Closer inspection revealed that the bridge wasn't rotting at all; in fact, it was in pristine condition. Instead, the signs of "rot" turned out to be paint that had apparently splashed while the bridge was being installed. He informed the others of this fact, and they all shared a laugh for a spell before Sans finally crossed to the other side and joined them.

"Odd choice, though, keeping it like that," Grandt mused to the two of them as they continued down the path. "If I didn't know any better, I'd assume the artists were colorblind." He paused. "The dogs down here aren't colorblind, are they?"

"You could ask 'em." Sans turned down towards where the path headed off. "Hey, are you guys colorblind?"

Grandt froze.

A pair of tall, humanoid dogs stepped up to them. They were dressed in black executioner's robes and held long-handled axes in both hands – or paws, Grandt, supposed. Regardless of the fact that they were dogs, they were still incredibly intimidating. Something about the way they carried themselves – backs straight, eyes almost completely covered, axes tall – sent a chill down Grandt's spine.

"Ah, hey, Sans," said one of the dogs in a calm, slightly deep voice. He glanced up and looked at Toriel and Grandt. "Who are these two?"

"Just some friends of mine," Sans replied.

"That's weird," said the first dog as he stepped over to Toriel, and Grandt thought he saw the faintest ghost of a smile beneath the black hood. "I don't remember you coming this way with other people."

Sans chuckled. "Is that really surprising?"

There was a pause as the two dogs looked at each other. "No, I guess not," the first one admitted. "In that case, we'll just–"

"Wait," the other dog said in a feminine voice, so low that it was almost a whisper. "I smell something strange."

"Something strange?" The first dog took a deep breath. "You're right… What's that smell?"

"Where's that smell?"

"If you're a smell–"

"– Identify yoursmellf!"

The dogs came up on either side of Grandt. They stared down at him with cold, curious eyes, holding their axes in such a way that Grandt feared they would act as his executioners without any sort of hesitation.

"Smells a bit like Doggo," the first dog mumbled. "Don't you think so, dear?"

"I'm not sure," the second replied. "There's a little bit of Doggo, but I don't recognize the rest of the scent at all…"

The first dog turned to Sans. "Are you sure this guy's okay, Sans? Something about him rubs me the wrong way."

"The right way is petting," the second dog quickly supplied.

Sans chuckled again. "Yeah, he's harmless. He's like a weird puppy. An old puppy."

Toriel raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that just a dog?"

"Nah."

"Anyway," the first dog said, looking Grandt over more closely, "how can we trust that this… this strange creature won't go into Snowdin and cause a ruckus?"

"'A ruckus'?" the second dog said incredulously. "Really, Dogamy?"

"Yes, a ruckus!" Dogamy stamped his foot in the snow. "Sure, Sans says he's fine, but who's to say he's not just playing Sans for a fool?"

Toriel crossed her arms. "And why am I given a free pass?"

"You're a Boss Monster," the second dog said blandly. "Also, we know who you are."

"Really? But how?"

"We placed second in the 1998 Nose Nuzzle Championships." The second dog pointed at her. "You placed first."

Toriel blinked, staring at the two for a moment before realization showed in her eyes. "Wait… Dogamy? Dogaressa? Is that really you?"

The two dogs threw off their hoods, revealing that they looked almost identical. The only real difference was that Dogamy had a pronounced cowlick and a small fake moustache, while Dogaressa had more pointed eyelashes.

"Good to see you again, Toriel," Dogamy said cheerfully. "We all got worried when you went and holed yourself up in the Ruins." Then he looked over at the very confused Grandt. "I guess this weird guy's your friend?"

"Yes," Toriel replied. "I trust him well enough. His scent's a bit odd, but that's just because he was living in the Ruins for a while."

"Really?" Dogaressa looked at him more closely. "Because he almost looks like a human."

Almost? Grandt thought. What part about me doesn't look human?

"Papyrus and I sorta look like humans," Sans pointed out. "Does that mean we can't go into town anymore?"

Dogamy opened his mouth to retort, but then he slowly closed it. He looked over Grandt for a moment, seemingly trying to find the right words, before completely giving up.

"Alright," he sighed. "If you're both going to vouch for him, I'm not going to hold you up any longer. All it'd do is cause a kerfuffle."

"'A kerfuffle'?" Dogaressa asked teasingly.

"Yes, a–" Dogamy stopped himself. "You know what? Never mind. You all can go on ahead if you want. It's clear you've no intent in harming anyone."

"Um… Thank you," Grandt murmured, looking between the two a bit nervously. "In that case, we'll just go…"

As they began walking away, though, Dogaressa suddenly shouted from behind them, "Hold on a moment, please!"

They turned around, and she smiled. "It's good to have you back, Toriel. We were all afraid you wouldn't ever leave the Ruins."

"That's right," Dogamy added. "Despite your odd choice in friends, we're just glad to know you're safe."

Toriel smiled back. "Thank you both," she said. "Honestly… it is good to be back."

AN: Progress is always fun. Also, I'm trying to work little bits of characterization into some of the minor characters and minibosses, just to give them a bit more personality. Dogamy and Dogaressa seem to be the most intelligent of the Snowdin Canine Unit, so I chose to build on that and to make them a bit more cynical than they are in the game - mostly because Grandt never realized that he should pet them.

Papyrus's spaghetti is pretty bad. Not the worst thing in existence, but undercooked pasta isn't all that good. On the plus side, Undyne hasn't yet showed him how to "properly" cook, so nobody's going to die because of it.

Lesser Dog will appear eventually, but for now I decided to leave him out.

Dogamy and Dogaressa would logically know Toriel. They participated in the same competition, meaning they were alive back when Toriel ruled the Underground with Asgore. Coincidentally, it also means that they're possibly the oldest members of the Canine Unit, so I decided to build a bit on both ideas by having Dogamy use some outdated language. I don't imagine they're especially old (only in their mid-thirties, probably, so they're still relatively young), but it's still fun to play around with.

As always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed, or even just read this story! I'll see you all next week for further progress towards Snowdin!