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The first complication, as matters stood, was in forming a single coherent line of thought from the musings of three separate consciences, as it was quite impossible to comprehend the situation in the slightest otherwise. Since these three particular consciences were rather alike in pattern of thought and physical desire, however, it was mere minutes before they managed to synchronize themselves into a singular line of musings, one third of which immediately linked itself to a rather unsatisfied stomach, and the rest of which wondered at the sudden loss of a great deal of sensory information.

Being a mere guard dog – though certainly one of great significance in his workplace – Cerberus had little a mind to wonder at the curiously enhanced flexibility of his forelegs towards the side, nor the reduced mobility the later part of his leg possessed in regards to movement towards the back. He hardly even registered the absence of his serpentine tail, unaware of any pain that might have alerted him to its detachment. The most startling of details, to Cerberus, was the want for two very particular sets of heads which he was quite certain should be busily assessing the situation from the side. The queerest part was that he failed to recall which side that was, or if it should even be both. Indeed, the three separate parts of his conscience were all very assured of their own position, and the question was so baffling the hound simply cleared it from his mind.

Cerberus’ first matter of business, as he saw it, was to rid his nose of whatever blockage was causing his sense of smell to suffer such grievous loss of efficiency. No sooner had he attempted to lift himself from where he had been lying on the ground, however, then he found himself falling forward in a rather comical display. Stranger still, disregarding the various muscles he flexed, his ears would absolutely not press against his skull nor his tail lower in discontent. His emotions, as one may imagine, were akin to those of a human who has suddenly woken up and realized he has forgotten how to frown. Mystified and more than a little worried, he attempted to look behind him. The consciences of the right and left head, however, both had rather different ideas of which direction led one to look behind them, and the one in the middle simply felt the task of looking at one’s tail impossible. In the end he simply swayed his head momentarily before a shudder shook through him and he allowed himself to lie still, looking around himself miserably.

Darkness, in a word, could describe the majority of what he saw. The air was permeated indefinitely by a light sort of fog, the likes of which made it rather difficult to see any specks that could be humans approaching on the horizon. Not far from where he lay was the river Acheron, the other side of which seemed to fade into the mist where the ethereal ferry would routinely appear, and the familiar sighs of the inadequately buried could be heard from the river Cocytus, feeding into Acheron beyond his obscured sight. Phlegethon was easy to discern in the distance. forming a gash of crimson through the murky atmosphere.

The stone he was stretched out upon was a rather nondescript black, chipped here and there with a few unevenly protruding stones that made rather uncomfortable bedding for the hound. One in particular jabbed directly into his side, and he longed they would become the minuscule pinpricks to which he was accustomed. As he attempted to adjust his head away from a protruding stone that was closer to his eye than he cared for, he noticed yet another inconsistency, though this one, to be fair, involved his surroundings. The Gate had been opened, and this in itself was so very shocking to the hound he entirely failed to note how much larger it had grown since last he gazed upon it.

His entire body froze, and had he still been the tri-headed hound he had been born as, his hackles would have rose at the sight. Forgetting the imbalance in his body that was the natural result of trying to walk upon all fours when one’s arms were shorter than one’s legs, he attempted to rise again – with similar consequences to his first attempt. Not prepared to submit to the inefficiency of his body’s disproportionate appendages as of yet, however, he straightened out on his belly, opening his mouth in what, on any other occasion, would have been the deep, simultaneous barking of three hounds. The hoarse and rather unintimidating sound that his mouth produced was entirely unsuited to he beast that guarded the gate to the underworld.

Now, Cerberus was not the most apt of canines in regards to intellect, and the combining of his psyches had not by any means altered this. He was, despite this, quite conscious to the existence of certain consequences that would result from a breach in security. Though the only evidence of infringement upon his territory was The Gate itself, the hound was prone to imagine someone had entered rather then escaped. Whilst it was true such occurrences were rare, it was rarer still for a soul to attempt to exit The Gate. Cerberus knew not the mechanics that prevented one without corporal form from unlocking the entrance, but in the few times he had experienced issues, the intruders had been from the realm of man.

Wobbling slightly, he rose, managing to prevent himself from falling forward as he planted his hands and feet solidly on the stone. It was an extremely awkward way to stand, as he felt he might tumble to either side at any moment, and as he made his way towards The Gate in this manner an idea tickled on the edge of his mind.

He knew not what part of his mind proposed this rather absurd plan, as surely it was something completely unsuited to his altogether build and quite impossible. Without any further notice, however, it wriggled itself into his mind as a rabbit who has been trying for a very long time to get under a fence, and began to nibble cheerfully at the edge of his mind. Not knowing the cause, and fancying himself very foolish to even entertain such an idea, he pushed at the ground with his forelegs, and found his head floating for a dizzying moment far above the rest of his body. He met the ground soon after, blinking slowly as he tried to comprehend the meaning behind his previous feat, but the rabbit simply continued on until what had started as a light snack became something more akin to a feast.

A bit surer now, he tried again, holding his arms to the side in a way that should not have been possible, and as he found himself somewhat steady a feeling of exhilaration danced through him. Such a trick he had never been able to achieve, for a three headed dog is top-heavy indeed. So absurd and fantastic were his exploits he could hardly imagine the praises his master would have.

Cerberus’ ears, had they been able, would have flattened against his head at the thought. His master would certainly not be pleased. Intruders had entered the netherworld, and whilst they ran about causing all sorts of clamor with their barking and nipping at the souls – for he much imagined that was what he would do – he had been at play. The part that most distressed poor Cerberus, however, was that he could not so much as lower his tail in an expression of his shame.

It was not long before the dog managed to come to a conclusion, and quite promptly he struck out in a rather clumsy manner towards The Gate. Though with each step he was braced in preparation for the pain he imagined should be the natural result of having his arms so far to his sides, he managed to hobble his way to this destination, and with neither hesitation nor concern he passed through, heedless of his discarded post.