Booker had awoken feet from the pool in Monoceros, startled awake by the feel of cold stone beneath his fur, rocks pressing up into skin, instead of the plush fur of his brother. The numbat had searched throughout the windy room for hours, then days, before finally leaving, trying to follow the lights. They were damaged in places, in some completely washed out, trampled on by something large - large enough to be Baratheon, but not enough to be the other dragon, the one who brought the fire and smoke. And so, the little Gembound traveled on, following pawprints, getting lost, finding more traces of his best friend, before finally arriving in Eridanus.
It was the second time he'd been, the first with the missing dragon himself, and Booker had just about reached the end of his proverbial rope. Baratheon hadn't been in Monoceros, nor in Orion, and he certainly couldn't have been in Polaris - and so the numbat had finally retraced his steps to the forest, comforted by the streams of light and sea of green that stretched out to span across the entire cave.
The Monarch stood up ahead, silver cap stretching up above the foliage, and Booker stopped beneath its shadow, panting, burns itching as they healed into scars, ears twitching this way and that for any noise. And oh, what noise shot through the air. Snarls and roars, screams of pain and growls, voices, so many voices, and Booker cringed closer to the mushroom's stalk, clenching his eye shut and curling up into a ball, shaking with every new sound, every fresh, thick wave of the scent of iron.
The longer the battle went on, the deeper he slipped into the past, head swimming with the heat of embers, lungs full of smoke. Coughing, Booker struggled to breath, scrabbling at his ears to block out the noise, claws digging into skin, tiny droplets of blood rising to the surface. The pain was distant, now, dull as he retched, nose clogged with the smell of burning moss and superheated metal.
Finally, finally, finally, the horde seemed to stop, the forest falling silent and still. Then, a final angry roar, powerful and deep, echoed through the trees, and Booker shrieked, hiding his face as the shadow of the beast flew overhead, wings beating. The numbat stayed, shaking, hidden among the ferns, until the noise faded, and the creature with it. Only then did he open his eye, wheezing, smoke-damaged lungs rocked with pain. Booker took in a slow breath, then another, until finally he was able to breathe without wincing in pain, and with that, he squared his tiny shoulders - and headed straight for the battlefield.
Tiny paws raced over earth, whiskers twitching wildly, trying to find the source of the noise. They might be hurt, like you were, it was the dragon, no, how could it have gotten here? It was in Polaris, there's no way - it must be, because there's only one other and - no. No. Booker moved through the shadows of the forest, finally reaching the clearing, peering out of the bushes. Immediately, the smell hit him like a punch: iron and gore, open wounds and bloodied mouths, the earth stained red. The victims of the beast's rampage were strewn about, all in various states of disarray, but the numbat stayed, frozen, scratching at his useless eye to try and stay focused. You need to help. You need to be better than this. They're hurt, they're - "M-Magda?"
His working eye widened in fear, watering, and Booker burst out of his hiding spot, racing towards the slender dog, fear and adrenaline giving him new energy. "Magdalena!" The dog was specked with blood, but she didn't seem wounded, just winded, and Booker slowed, confused, tilted his head - and his eyes stuck on what, exactly, she was guarding. "No. No." There, in the shadow of his friend, lay little Delphine. Still so young, so fragile, bleeding and broken, the foal who looked so much like Khloros that it sucked away his breath, leaving him panting and shaken, slowly moving forward and then running, darting about the young Gembound frantically, trying to figure out how to stem the flow, help her, somehow, do something!
Booker grimaced, grooming away what blood he could, stopping to dart glances at the others, wincing again when he noticed Bones, similarly wounded. "What happened? Who did this to you?"