ORIGIN

The journey had been quite something for the ambitious old noodle, but with the protection of a long time friend and the wisdom of a hyena's treasures, his wide paws found their home once more among the ice. A shiver ran up his spine as he stepped on to slick surface leading out of Eridanus, belly full of food. Cetus was just around the corner, and he knew this tunnel from whisker to tail.

An echo of a yowl reached the far edge of the tunnel, making the small brown mustelid perk up. His muscles spasming along his scarred flank, he let loose a small whine and cast a glance to Black. There were others with him, friends who he had found on the way, but he had grown inclusively dependent on the mastiff.

Like lightning, the bushy gembound raced off, ears coned forward to catch any more sounds that came ricocheting off of the pink and purples of the slick tunnel. The ice didn't bother him, it never had. His grooved paws stuck and propelled him forward with ease. Yet no noise came, except for the scratching of claws on ice.

When Fisher burst forth from the branching tunnel into the main walkway, his head swung to catch the flash of bright white fur and blood. Cycles ago, he had hardly understood what blood was. Now, it made his stomach drop and his heart stop. Before him was what looked like the King of Shadows, but made of pure, white light and vibrant splashes of color-- and longer. More like a noodle.

That was not his main concern, however. In the clutches of the assured King was none other than a sack of limp, brown fur and huge paws. The smell hit him-- sharp, coppery, like when he had almost killed himself, with undertones of the one he had been trying to track for days. There was only a moment of distraught and panic, and then it was gone.

Furious rage filled him in that instant, spurring him forward. "Fallah!" Was she already dead? The mustelid had no idea of knowing, but he knew his paws wouldn't-- couldn't-- reach her in time. He felt a stab of pain in his first bound and crumpled to the floor almost immediately, but even as his eyes shut reflexively he knew one thing for certain:

Fisher knew this tunnel best of any other area in all of the great Origin Caves. This was the path he traveled in his youth, in his desperation to find Pisces-- every where he went, he always found his paws on the cold, slippery forks of this icy wonderland. Even as he flinched, struggling to fight back to his paws, he could imagine the world before him.

The King of Blood, his pure white fur stained with scarlet, laid just beyond the ice. For an instant, he could feel the slick surface extend before him-- and then his gem grew white hot on his back. Fallah... He had to protect her. He couldn't lose her. She and Black... She were his only true friends, the ones he had known since childhood and never had any reason to doubt.

And more so, Fallah was the only one he couldn't imagine his home without.

The ice under his paws cracked, snapping at the heat of his lightning, but didn't reach his target. He hissed, pain surging down his spine. He had to draw the King's attention and save his friend-- even if it meant putting Black and the others in danger.

"Hey! King of Blood!" His voice rang out, pushing himself back to his paws, trembling. "Come get me!!"

@Black @Baratheon @Bones (if you want?) (and anyone else who's w/ Fisher)

Black lifted his head, every nerve in his body singing, muscles tensing and mind's slow workings shooting into impossible rapidity as his veins coursed with adrenaline.

The scent of blood. A cry of pain. Fisher bolted forward, and Black surged into motion at once, heavy body picking up speed until the black velvet fur was a blur in the tunnel. He nearly lost his footing, skidding, as they rounded the turn: and there he saw it, confirmed with Fisher's cry.

Fallah.

The cat was under his protection as much as Fisher was; to him, nothing else mattered. Never mind the fact that the massive white beast made Black's bulk almost inconsequential--he didn't expect to win. He didn't expect anything--he didn't think. He only ran faster, plowing straight for the white dragon with every intention of slamming into it at full speed, knocking it away from snatching Fallah down into its jaws.

Every fiber of his being and every bit of his mind was focused on this task: his vision narrowed until he could only see his target, its pale fur a wall he intended to throw himself against. He could hear only the roar of his own heartbeat and his own inhaling breaths as he braced himself for impact, and the quiet slap of his paws and scratch of his claws on the stone.

He made no other sound.

________________

He heard the approach of the others but hardly gave them a second thought. At the brown thing's words he only lifted a lip and gave a snarl, a warning to keep back and leave him to his meal. He reached down again and was prepared to pull another morsel of flesh from the belly of his victim but he felt a large force to his side. One that knocked him away from the bleeding lynx and down, down, down to the ground.

He landed with a huff of air leaving his lungs but other than that he was unharmed. His wing had cushioned his fall and when he landed, he sat stunned for a moment before immediately whipping back into action. This was now a threat to his catch. As far as he was concerned this black thing wanted to steal his prey and challenge him. He would not have that.

So, he whipped his head towards the canine with his mouth opened and bloodied fangs bared. He wanted to sink those deadly weapons into the dog's neck if he could and get a grip. If he got a hold he would try to keep a hold of the dog's neck.

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