ORIGIN

Pride shook his head. "Now, I gather my magic and I try again," he answered. He was wary, though--he could feel that he was somewhat drained, and if the bats turned out to be something group-focused and vicious, it was very possible either one of them could be wounded.

He reconsidered, briefly, but shook his head; surely he could manage against a few bats.

Pride considered, for a moment. He could blow up a rock, maybe; but that might wound a few bats, which would be cruel at best. Or he could try to frighten them out mind-to-mind, but he couldn't see any of them to try. Perhaps-... Yes; I know where their gemstones were, he realized. He reached his magic behind the cluster of stones along the wall, feeling his way with magic, searching for one of the stones nearer a hole in the stones.

His magic slipped, catching on nothing; his nostrils flared, and he exhaled in a sigh.

"Acheron!" Pride cried, alarmed, as the kid just shot off into the dark. He darted after her--but too slow; already she'd landed, and come upright.

Several bats came streaming out from behind the stones, panicked--not as many as he'd seen, but enough that he was spoiled for choice. Harmless, he had a split-second to note, relief flooding him; they were Flying Pitch Rats, not the Dragonbats he'd feared they might be.

At least his kid wouldn't get eaten alive day one. Though she seems surprisingly self-sufficient, he noted, with some... well, pride.

He pushed his magic out in a hurried rush, grabbing with the power of the mind for one of the smaller fleeing bats. Its eyes were panicked, and he felt a little stab of sympathy--but a child had to eat. He yanked the bat to the ground, and hurried to pin its wings lightly with a hoof.

Then he looked to Acheron.

"Some of us eat living things, like this," he reiterated, carefully, keeping judgment from his tone. "Only those who do not speak." This warning was again gently repeated. "If you think you might like to eat meat, you can kill this bat--or I can, if you do not want to--and you can eat it. What do you think?" he asked her.

He was very cautious in his phrasing, in his tone: he didn't want to project any expectations, to make the kid feel pressured. He guessed, though--in a brief judgment of all he'd seen of her so far. If she does not eat meat, she will show total disinterest, he gauged; and if she does, she will likely kill it quickly, with little thought.
She'd certainly shown nothing but rapidly-shifting, but sharp, focus and efficient magic thus far.

...And immediately, she surprised him.

He blinked down, and hastened to--gently--remove his hoof from the bat; he shouldered between Acheron and its flapping as it came upright, just in case it decided to defend itself in a panic. But it didn't; it scrambled away, not sparing a glance back before taking lopsided, frightened flight.

Pride looked back to her, peering. She did want meat, he thought, though it wasn't a certainty. "All right. Plants. And for now-... I have fruit," he went on. It was something even carnivores would eat--and at least now she knew how to hunt for herself, if it came down to it.

He hoped she wasn't bothered by the learning, though. "Let's go back to the Throne, yes-? Back to near where you hatched? We can rest there," he suggested, "and I can tell you a story, if you like."

But first: a sparkle of magic, and a single yellow banana had appeared in thin air. Pride nudged it to the ground, and with a nibble had split the peel; he pushed it toward Acheron with his snout. "Give it a sniff," he suggested. "It tastes lovely."

Pride gave a little laugh, and a dip of his head. "Magic, yes," he confirmed.

He set a sedate pace back to the throne, and spoke as they walked, noting Acheron's now fascinated stare. "Our magic can do many things. It is magic of the mind," he explained, with a glance down at her. If he could've lifted a hand to tap his head--but alas, hooves didn't allow for such things. "We can pick things up, and throw them. Or change their very nature. Turn water to steam, or warm the very air--or cool it down again. Change rock into flame--but a lot of our magic is very dangerous."

He threaded his way onto a narrow path--well-worn by his own hooves--across a thin layer of dirt and back toward the Throne's rocky floor. Despite the lesson, he stayed idly alert, his senses keeping watch for his and his child's safety.

"So use caution while you practice--stay near me, or someone else who can help you if it goes wrong." He hesitated, and decided against giving her the more gory details--the possibilities of just how their magic could backfire.

With luck, she'll never need to know. Well--not as a child, anyway, he amended his thought. He only hoped it'd prove true; the line between 'traumatizing a kid with graphic warnings' and 'letting the kid accidentally blow themselves up with magic' seemed to be a rather fine one.

Ahh. Well, problem solved, Pride thought, with amusement--and in a particularly convenient way. She'd taught herself, without actually blowing a limb off. Sort of. "Like that, yes, and no, I did not do that to you," he added--the question in her face was clear.

Rather than himself risk backfiring magic, he used a gentle nudge of his head to help her back upright, and then turned forward again. "Are you all right? Does it hurt?" he asked.

And there was the Throne, just ahead; and the bones atop it. That would be a lesson, he supposed, for another day. A grim one. He felt he'd perhaps told Spark a little soon--but maybe Acheron was more thick-skinned. Then again, I already misjudged her once, he reminded himself.

"Come," he told her, gently; "let's rest, awhile. I can tell you a story, if you like."