ORIGIN

Oh, no! Explaining the concept of "pain"--its origins, its meaning, the very nature of it--hadn't exactly been first on Oliver's "Parenting To-Do List." He buckled down to tackle it anyway, with his typical honesty, and though one couldn't say he sugar-coated it at least he wasn't brutal.

"Pain is... a bad feeling, one you really don't want. It happens when your body gets... damaged, somehow," he tried, with an almost apologetic glance back. He tried to focus on scents, on any signs of prey, half-distracted. "So pain's a bad thing, and making more of it's bad, too." Caves, but he hoped Reverend didn't ask him what "bad" meant: Oliver's ability to define words was already being stretched perilously thin. Any further, and it might snap, leaving him helplessly babbling to the kid.

As he crept through the underbrush, it occurred to him that he had another way to search: to reach out with his magic and sense those little creepy-crawlies that lived throughout the caves. Bacteria--though he didn't know them by that name--were everywhere, but differed a great deal from soil to tree to living Gembound.

He paused, one wing-paw lifted in the air, nose scenting and magic working. After a moment, he dropped his voice a little lower, and angled off to one side. "This way. There's something small-... I think near the base of that tree. The big one up ahead. See it-? If we can get close, maybe we can catch it." He glanced back at Reverend, to see if the child gave any indication of wanting to try for himself--or to let Oliver continue to lead.

The sound of something scampering had Oliver wincing, a little. He couldn't help but feel faint relief that the critter had likely escaped--and then guilt. He couldn't have his kid go hungry.

It was looking, more and more, like he'd need to make a kill himself. Maybe that's best, he thought; then I can show him how it's done?

Still, he offered an encouraging smile. "It takes awhile to get used to," he offered. "But you get the idea? You can always practice sneaking! Maybe we can play a hide-and-seek game later, to try more. Let me see if I can find something now, though, and show you how to--um, finish it."

Oliver crept forward a bit, peering up--and, hoping the critter (whatever it was) had run up the tree, he leapt. His wings weren't good for true flight--but they were okay for a quick flap upward, and a glide. If anything, Reverend's own limbs promised far more useful movement later on. But for now, Oliver hoped that it would do. He supposed he could have taken owl form--it was accurate, deadly so, and perfect for hunting small prey. But it was still excruciatingly painful for him, and he didn't want to confuse his child unnecessarily, either.

Still, something of the owl's hunting methods must have stuck with him--his pounce, carefully calculated from within the underbrush, sent him shooting out of the foliage and smacking claws-first against the trunk of the tree. He fell backward, then--tumbling into the dirt shoulders-first--but he'd caught something in his claws. Quickly he turned, showing his catch to Reverend; it was a Cat-Squirrel, a small and gold-streaked rodent creature with a long, fluffy tail.

Oliver didn't stop to consider, didn't let guilt or hesitation creep in. He had to do this, so he did--he gave it a quick snap of the neck (wincing as he did), and grimaced as the moment of startled fear in the Lesser's eyes faded into nothing.

"...Like that," he offered, softly. "Next time, you can try. But--for now--you can eat that. You--have to get past the fur," he explained, gesturing with his claws before setting the dead prey at Reverend's feet.

A soft smile--as close to one as a bird-dog could manage--laced Oliver's face as he watched Reverend take his first bites. He himself sat back, relieved that--for now, probably? unless the kid turned out to still be hungry--his work as a parent was done.

"Is that better-?" he guessed, light humor in his tone. He could already see as much, himself. There was none of the dislike that the herbivore-oriented foods had been shown.

And as for hide-and-seek? "We can play, yes. It's where one of us hides, and the other one has to find them? It's good practice, for... well. Hiding, and seeking; hunting, really." Warmth was flooding him. Something soft, protective--something he'd never really felt before these last few days. He waited, patient, eyes brimming with this emotion, as Reverend ate. Oliver hardly noticed the blood, even; his gaze was locked on the child intently eating.

"Or we can do... anything you like, really. We can explore, if you want? Visit other caves. Or rest. We could meet Venari-?" He had whole lists of things that they could do, really. But best, perhaps, not to overwhelm the child, at first.

He paused, and then--in no hurry; patient and content--he spoke again. "Let me know if you... find your name," he suggested quietly.

Then, he'd have something to call his child.

Oliver gave a little laugh. "Venari's... our neighbor," he explained, though it was a tossup as to whether Reverend would understand that word, either. "She lives in the cave next to where you hatched! She's very nice, and she has a collection of shiny stones. You came from one of those stones!" He beamed brightly.

He didn't mention the fact that Venari was a massive, exoskeleton-clad bounty hunter with a third eye that could find her targets wherever they would hide, but, well... that's because it didn't matter to Oliver. That might have been what Venari was, but it wasn't who she was, to him.

As for games-? He grinned, tongue lolling. "Let's play a game!" he agreed, confirming. "Go run and hide somewhere--and I'll count to ten--and then I'll come find you!"

He wanted to do... whatever the kid wanted, really. Part of it was the magnolet taking over--perhaps insidiously--his own gem, crowding his thoughts with the desire, or need, even, to "help" and to serve others. But part was just the parent, the father with a new child who wanted to play a game--and what dad could turn that down?

"One... two... three-"

Thud.

Oliver's feathery ear-tufts pricked upright and he jolted, wide-eyed, at the sound of his child first faceplanting a tree and then, the ground. He rushed forward, discarding his hide-and-seek count (it wasn't cheating if your kid had hurt themselves) and crashed through the foliage to Reverend.

"...What happened?!" Oliver cried out, alarmed. He looked around--even up--and saw no sign of danger. He'd just heard a thud and then another thud--had someone attacked Reverend?!

He bristled a little, drawing protectively closer. "Are you okay?" he asked, worried, sparing a wide-eyed glance down.

This... wasn't how hide-and-seek was meant to go. Not in Oliver's experience, anyway. Which... admittedly, was limited, but still!