ORIGIN

The little creature hopping through Eridanus was completely out of place. She was not one of the wicked monsters that roamed the cave, or even one of the sleek, swift Lessers that served as prey.

Instead she was a soft ball of white: a cottonball with legs and ears, moving with wide, pale eyes through the towering ferns. Even the grass was tall, here: a Wallcrawler looked, to her, enormous, and the trees-? Impossibly large! Scary, even.

The soft murmur of Mother at the back of her mind was wordless, as yet, but loving--reassuring. It would grow, given time, but for now it was only a counterpoint that--barely--kept her fear at bay. And that fear was hard to fight off; everything was big, and moving, and everything set her instincts into "flight" mode. The wind brushing a leaf aside suddenly felt like a predator was about to leap out; the shrill cry of a bird above sent her scampering away into the brush, looking for a warren that wasn't there.

Her heart, then, was hammering constantly. She wanted to explore--to see what was here, to find the beauty in this place--but everything she found was terrifying.

At the very least, she had a 'friend': a little light that she'd practically summoned into being, in one of the moments where she'd crouched, afraid and trembling, waiting for something large to pass her by. (It had, though she hadn't known it, been an almost harmless Jungle Deer.) The little blue light had popped up beside her, to her first fear and then relief: a tiny guide, a companion that bobbed softly along as she moved. Now she felt as though she depended on it, as if somehow, the light would keep her safe.

Ananke bolted at the first sudden trill of sound, and the voice that followed. It was instinct, driven by that constant sense of prey's fear--a shove of hindquarters that sent her vanishing off into the underbrush.

She vaguely heard someone speaking, but the way they spoke--the odd words they chose--were so incredibly creepy that she wanted nothing to do with them. "Little lady?" "Miss Snow?" What did those mean? How did this stranger know she was female? Ananke knew nothing of music, of song; she didn't know that it might be some tune unrelated to herself, the words already fixed to it by tradition. And so she assumed they were directed at her, and off she ran into the ferns, shoving under a few bushes and crouching there--trembling, silent, and afraid.

The wisp bobbed around some distance away--heart pounding, she kept it away. She couldn't let it give away her position.

If she'd been asked, she couldn't have said quite what she was afraid of--creepy tree-people descending from said trees singing at someone were legitimately terrifying, but she wasn't experienced enough to say "shit, he'll probably eat me."

She lay quiet beneath the cluster of ferns, that eerie sing-song voice haunting her. It was terrifying, honestly: exactly equivalent to the growl of a giant monster in its incoherent alien-ness. She'd hardly met any strangers in her life, and to have a large, predator-shaped one descend from above--speaking near-nonsense in a melodic tone--was scary as hell.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her tiny eyes bulging as she listened. The soft thud of foot on dirt was even scarier, if that were possible: for a creature so attuned to the vibrations in the earth, it was like a flat-out threat.

-But then, suddenly, there were normal words: a speaking voice, with clear intent. Why?

Ananke would have frozen to think, were she not already huddled motionless. Why had the stranger--the predator?--shifted from that mysterious nonsensical voice to a normal speaking tone, now? She didn't move from her spot--but one ear flicked, and she half-turned her head (not that she really needed to) to peer back in the direction of the voice. All she could see, of course, was the thick greenery into which she had ensconced herself.

After a moment's debate, she spoke. Her voice was quiet and tremulous: "Me-?" (What other rabbit was there-?) "I am-... Here," she said, hesitating, and it might have seemed like the foliage was speaking in that quailing tone. "Please don't come any closer. -Why are you making that noise?" and it was plaintive, afraid; "Who are you?" Are you going to try and eat me? But there was no point in asking that last question, was there-? It wasn't very likely that anyone would answer yes.

She considered, still nestled down in the thicket of greenery. She hadn't come out, and thus was still unable to see Vanyel beyond it. That was a relief, at least--the hiding spot; she felt a little less immediately vulnerable, and exposed. It meant she couldn't see the glow, of course, but his words were... well, if not reassuring, they at least made sense.

"Terrible?" she repeated, her soft voice blank with lack of understanding. Was the eerie crooning meant to be good or bad? She didn't understand. "It's scary," she agreed, when he apologized--"but-... it's okay..." Was it? She sure hoped so. She'd simply said the words to reassure, to thank Vanyel for his apology, in a sense. It seemed like the right thing to say?

"Ananke. My--my name. Is Ananke." The words--in her tiny voice, still hesitant and tremulous--barely made it past her shroud of leaves. For a moment, she considered simply staying there--or even running away, or asking him to leave. But here was one of the first creatures to speak to her and show politeness, friendliness. What if he thought her rude-? Or she hurt his feelings?

Weighing "possible death" against "being disliked" was a perhaps strange test of values, but after a moment, Ananke did begin to emerge from the bush. A twitching nose, and long white whiskers, and then the rest of her face, slowly pushed out. There she paused, peering up at Vanyel with wide eyes, tensed to flee if needed. Did she--like flowers? Hell, she didn't know. She'd not been alive all that long. She'd never tried to eat any--maybe she should..?

She hesitated, afraid now to seem too afraid, too indifferent. "I, um--I've never eaten flowers... are they good to eat?" Distilled knowledge reminded her of manners, and she again hesitated. "I could... try some, if it isn't too much trouble... please. And thank you." She could now see the glowing pattern on Vanyel's skin, though she wasn't sure if she should eat that. So Ananke politely kept her distance, just her little head poking out from the brush, sitting prim and frightened. He was enormous, compared to her: immensely tall, so much so that she doubted she'd even be a snack for him. "Excuse me," she added, hopeful--"but, what do you eat?"

Maybe she'd met a friend who also ate grass and plants. Maybe--if she were lucky--he didn't eat rabbits, after all.

She hopped out a little farther into the open, that fear of being disliked fighting the fear of being eaten by a giant predator. Somehow, the former was winning out; maybe it was Vanyel's friendly demeanor that was tipping the scales.

Twitching nose (up, down, up, down) touched to the little white flowers. They smelled sweet, and she set to nibbling one delicately, pale eyes peering up at Vanyel as she did so. Something he had said struck her with curiosity: he put flowers in hot water..? She had only ever found cold water, and she wondered at the idea of a hot brook bubbling through the jungle. It sounded almost nice (as long as it wasn't too hot). "Where... do you find hot water?" she asked, voice still timid but a little more emboldened by her own interest.

She nibbled more at the flowers, and then sat back a little, pondering the taste. Whiskers twitched, and a tiny, pink tongue dipped out to clean her fuzzy white chin. "...These are--sweet... thank you? I have--I don't know what fruit... tastes like," she added, trying to imagine it. Or vegetables, for that matter, but she'd finished her sentence and feared interrupting a potential response (or coming across as strange), so she remained in stifling quiet for the moment.