ORIGIN

You'd be forgiven for not noticing anything was there, because as it was the little egg of brown agate was buried under over a foot of snow. Up until now, the chunk of gemstone didn't care about how much snow may have been on top of it. However, the creature beginning to stir within the thinning shell would certainly have SOME feelings about the snow.

For now, the shell held, so they were save and warm and just a little bit cramped. Hind legs would wiggle and shift, nose bonking against something hard and chilled. The more they moved, the more uncomfortable they got, and the more they woke up, the more they felt the need to do. To run and play as puppies are want to do. All it took was the sharp TINK! of gemstone on gemstone, and any integrity left in the shell crumbled in an avalanche of agate and snow.

Gentle curiosity and restlessness gave was to claustrophobic terror as the cold pressed in from all sides. The little pup frantically struggled, trying to get up, up and away from the snow. Although the hunk of gemstone replacing their front legs made this a lot easier said than done. He shuffled pitifully within the snow, whining and barking and flailing the single pair of legs he had. The snow would move and shift, suggesting something was struggling below, but for now the pup was just as stuck as he had been before.

Vasil was slightly older by perhaps a day or so. They were older, and smarter, and home free! — unlike the poor puppy one foot under, the world bore more resemblance to an oyster than a shallow grave for Vasil. It's strange to come to this revelation so soon in life: that some things are random, and some randomness is unfortunate, and some misfortunate is deadly. But before we get to that, Vasil first realizes what it means to be cold.

Freezing, actually.

Frigid, and slow, and trundling about aimlessly, hopelessly, incapable of sight because of all the blasted FOG around, and kind of... mad about it! Really mad about it. Mad in a way they cannot explain, nor express — and tears aren't about to help, they'll just freeze up and make Vasil's face even colder. The crunch, crunch, crunch of this stupid white dirt underfoot is another irritant. Vasil doesn't know how they wound up here, or why they had ever wandered off from the perfect temperature place into the slightly smaller place and now into this stupid hellscape place. That was a dumb idea. All of this is a dumb idea. Whose idea is it, was it? Certainly not theirs.

Alas, there's only so much a cold, grumpy baby (who's also kind of hungry and kind of tired) can do in a situation like this. One option is to scream, but Vasil's not quite partial to vocalization at this age. Another... is to dance! But Vasil doesn't know about dancing in the cold or in the rain just yet. The best option to a little baby who has nothing more than a little wit and a lot of instinct right now, actually, is probably to sleep. Find someplace marginally comfy, and sleep. Maybe that wooden eye will take care of the rest.

They don't have to travel far. Trusting nothing but their paws — seeing as every other sense is out of the question — Vasil settles on a spot that feels special. They begin to dig there, just to make it comfy. Dig! Dig! Dig, dig, dig! One step, two step, one little paw scratch, two little paw scratch! Until they finally realize that the snow seems to be digging back. Now that is certainly interesting. In just a little bit of time, Vasil's teeny weeny nerve endings are giving up their ability to function in all this cold, and yet the digging snow strikes some kind of dull sensation back into those frozen fingers. Perhaps this is a sign... to dig a little deeper? There's some noise, too — both welcome and unwelcome in light of all the silence — that Vasil is also curious about.

Dig! Dig dig! Dig dig dig!

We'll get you out someday, little dog.

@Toboggan

Forgive Toboggan for not being the most perceptive right now. They don't notice the little tip-tap-patter of paws above, nor the shuffling of someone digging from the opposite direction. All he really knows is the cold soaking into his fur and clogging his nose and crushing him. He DID notice a spot where the cold seemed a little less heavy and crushing, so that's the spot he aimed for as he tried to do.. well, anything.

The heaviness and awkwardness of the hunk of gemstone dragging him down required some literal backwards thinking. He'd let the front of the gemstone brace against the floor as he kicked and pushed at the snow, trying to free himself or kick away enough snow so that he was not covered and crushed by it. The spot where Vasil had been digging would crumble and cave as the fluffy rear of a very tired puppy emerged. Soon after his front half emerged, swinging awkwardly and haphazardly to rest (mostly) on top of the snow.

You'd think one would be freezing after being completely covered in snow, right? Well, yeah, a little, but as cold-resistant as sled-dog breeds tend to be, and considering Toboggan here is a two-in-one deal, he was doing A-okay. I mean, not in general, but as far as the cold was concerned, he was fine.

Mostly, he was tired. The frantic struggle out of the snow had taken a LOT of energy, not to mention dragging with him a hunk of gemstone as big as he was. He huffed out a tired little puppy sigh, before noticing the new potential friend nearby. That changed everything! He'd yip and bark, twisting to face Vasil should they not be directly in front of him.

A friend!! A friend!! That made being buried in snow worth it! Kinda!

@Vasil

Moving! More moving! More noise! This instability is starting to get rather uncomfortable. But just before Vasil can give up on this "playing with snow" ordeal, the snow up and tries to eat them. And it succeeds for the briefest while there — earning the squeakiest one-note eep! — until Vasil lands on something soft. Soft... and warm. Hogh. Holy days. Ho my goodness gravy. Warmth. It's so new, and yet so familiar... nostalgic, almost, and yet more intense than anything Vasil remembers from their admittedly very short past. Vasil elects to keep his cold little paws inside the mound of softwarm. Maybe it's the tongue of the snow. Vasil doesn't care. Go ahead, call it a foolish baby for being so easily lured! That's better than being a frozen baby due to being too cautious.

The fuzzy tongue makes more noises, louder noises this time, and swivels about to lay its eyes on Vasil. Vasil opts to move their hands away, at least while the softwarm tongue(?) explodes with unforeseen energy. But, after it's done turning around, her hands rocket back out, in search of what Vasil barely recognizes to be: a face. If those little paws can grasp what they are looking for, Vasil will take this opportunity to feel just how deep the softwarm goes, by pressing and squishing and probing about

@Toboggan

Its hard to actually look at the new friend at first. He can FEEL something pressed against his fur before it abruptly pulls away, and he can SEE a bit of brown fur before the friend moves in front of him, in direct full view. And its... well, it sure is a creature! Even if he had the knowledge of categories like 'cat' or 'dog' or 'bird' he wouldn't have been place The Friend in any of them. Just small ears and long tail and long nose to match. And oh, legs, but on the front too! How weird was that?

Those weird front paws were squishing his cheeks now, making his eyes squint a little in response. It was.. weird. A little uncomfortable even, as his face was squished and squashed like some sort of stress ball. Was this part of the friend-making process? He couldn't know for certain, this was the first friend he'd ever gotten.

So, he'd try to return the favor- with puppy kisses! Because anyone who's ever interacted with a dog knows that being face-to-face has a 70% chance to get a face full of slobber, and it looks like Vasil wasn't in the lucky 30% today. Assuming Vasil backed away- as natural when faces with a snow tongue's tongue- He'd stare in vaguely dejected disappointment, licking his own nose once or twice.

@Vasil