Only when he felt that the garden would be safe in his absence did Rift dare to return to Oliver, ready to begin their search for his lost brother. He hoped that nothing had befallen Sebastian in his absence from the search, or that he was missing him. Thankfully, though, the compass had pointed the same way as the time before. And, together, Rift and Oliver and followed its path.
Through Polaris they went, which rang so familiar to Rift, but long forgotten. He had visited in in a dream, perhaps, although he knew that he had just forgotten the times he had been there. The Spire with its crackling blue and the crystal clear river were welcome sights from the very corners of memory. Still, he marveled at them, having forgotten their beauty.
The tunnel away, however, stirred nothing in the cougar. As the air began to chill and ice formed along the rocks, swiftly turning into snow, he began to feel nervous. Stepping into something wholly unknown and new. It was something he wasn’t yet familiar with and it scared him. Oliver’s presence, at least, was calming and grounding and he pushed on, ever watching the compass as it pointed towards his lost companion. But now he had to wonder - what was Sebastian doing here?
As they stepped through the snow of Ursa, Rift shivered, already feeling it sticking and clumping in his fur. Perhaps in another world a cougar would have little issue in such cold environments, but Rift had grown up in Eridanus. Warmth and green was all he knew and his fur was thin and short to reflect his home habitat. Now he shivered and felt the cold like claws in his skin.
He took another glance at the compass and up in their direction and stopped. He blinked, looking again, confused, and then again. In front of them was a mountain - a huge mountain.
@Oliver
Oliver had found himself unable to refuse. It wasn't that he wanted to refuse--but the compulsion to say yes had outpaced his chance to actually think it over. It was... disconcerting, but in the end he'd pushed it aside. Rift was a friend--with whatever baggage this particular friendship had come with--and he'd agreed to help. So he would. Simple as that.
But now, out here in the bitter snow, Oliver found himself squinting into the aurora-light and shivering and wondering exactly what Rift was: what the hell was Sebastian doing out here..?
He glanced at the compass, then forward, huddling a little against a gust of biting, icy wind.
He didn't know it was the old trees, growing beneath the surface of the lake--he just knew it was alive, that it was plants, and that it was beyond the visible rock face of this mountain.
@Rift
Rift glanced at Oliver and shrugged at his initial question, but after a brief thought he shook his head. Nothing in his mind connected Sebastian with cold or ice or snow or really anything but his fire and his love. Did he grow plants? Maybe, but Rift couldn’t recall. He doubted, however, that he was anything but a wielder of fire that was brothers with one who wielded nature.
Oliver’s detection, though, had him excited. Remembering that he could do that same thing, he cast his own magic out and found the same thing. Life. Maybe Sebastian had brought some of Eridanus’s bounty with him to try and stoke something of this desolate place. Yeah, that made sense! Fire to melt the snow and warm the earth, and he had an endless supply of water to keep them happy!
He followed after Oliver, keeping pace with him and beginning to look around for anything that looked like an entrance into the mountain. A crevice or a cave or a tunnel or even just a straight up door.
The Drowned Forest--though perhaps the pair would not realize what they were seeing, or sensing--lay beyond, elevated high above the level of the cave entrances.
It would be a climb, a long and exhausting trudge through snow and ice for the pair, before they neared the greenery. Here, at least, they'd likely be able to tell (should they again test their senses) that the forest still lay far beyond.
Oliver shivered, a little, against the cold. At length he shook himself and blinked.
He pulled back and paused in his trudging, then hunched down. A shiver, a squint, and then he was crying out in pain through clenched teeth--teeth that snapped and pulled back into gums as black keratin spread from his nose over a rapidly shrinking face. It was painful. It looked painful, that shrinking and stretching and bone-cracking and feather-growing. He yelped twice more, one sharp with agony, and--then it was over.
He lay, panting rapidly, in the snow: now as a huge, dark-hued Great Horned Owl. The canine in him--even the corvid--was gone. Wings were sprawled crookedly against the snow, his face pressed down and to the side as he gathered himself after the agony of the shift.
He looked to Rift.
Oliver took wing a moment later, a leap and beat of feathers carrying him up into the icy fog.
Owl-iver was only gone for a few moments: up past the mountains, into the higher plain beyond, wholly skipping the "trudging through snow" thing. His magic flared out and, like a beacon, the entire Drowned Forest lit up in his vision. He soared that way, fighting the bitter winds, curling along the flank of the mountain until the water came into sight. He swept down, flying low over the water--across, and then back--studying the trees down beneath.
Then he lifted higher, flying his way back to Rift. When he landed it wasn't graceful, but a stumble, still stiff with aching pain.
@Rift
Rift watched with a mix of awe and horror as Oliver transformed right in front of him. He lifted a paw as if to step forward and help because he saw his friend in pain and thought surely there was something he could do! But then he stopped, because what could he offer to ease such a supernatural process? IF there was anything at all?
When it was over, Rift stared blankly at the owl that was laying where Oliver had been. It was incredible, for sure, but it was strange. Save for the color, there was nothing of Oliver left! Unsure of what to do, he simply stood there in shock until Oliver’s voice came from the beak of the bird. He flinched and it was like time was moving again. He rushed forward to the owl’s side and crouched down.
But Oliver was getting up. It was okay, right? This was a part of him. He nodded, gulping.
Still, it was worth a shot. He swatted away some snow and cleared a small area of the cold ground. Focusing down, he begged what seeds lay beneath the earth to sprout and, after a moment or two, a few shoots began to emerge. A random assortment of winter plants and among them…yes! Mint!
It was a young plant, but he didn’t need much now. He quickly picked off the biggest leaves with his teeth and began to chew them together, his saliva acting as a bonding agent.
By the time Oliver landed on the ground, Rift had spat the makeshift salve into a paw. He glanced up at the owl and nodded with his report.
After it was done, Rift stood up, wiping his paw off in the snow and starting forward in the direction Oliver had mentioned. A forest…underwater? He tried to figure why Sebastian would have gone there. He probably wouldn’t have gone swimming to plant them but there might have been something nearby. The walk there was an effort, fighting the snow with every paw step, but at long last they arrived at the shore of the lake.
He leaned over the edge of the water, eyes glittering with wonder at the lush forest that flourished beneath the surface of the water.
Eventually he flexed his wings, offering a bob of his head and a little relieved sigh to indicate that it'd helped. Just how much, he didn't clarify. But then he was off--and soon enough, both of them were looking over the drowned forest.
Oliver plodded along the edges of the shore, one taloned foot before the other, blue eyes searching the depths. But he was as puzzled as Rift was. At the mountain lion's request, he withdrew the compass (awkwardly) from over his head, holding it out.
Was the black cat underwater here, somehow-?
He paused, concentrating. Focus crossed his features, and then there was a glimmer in his mind. Slowly, he scanned their surroundings-... but no.
They had been watched, of course. A few stray eyes noted their passage through Ursa, with little interest. And then watched their progress, ever closer to the Hive's passageways, with closer attention, but no real alarm.
Now-?
Curiosity flickered along the link, lighting the minds of Drone and servant alike.
A Cleaner eventually emerged from a snowbank, a burst of snow plowed out before it. Forelimbs swiped to hastily clean off its mandibles before insectoid eyes turned toward the pair, only a dozen or so yards away. Its head tilted to one side--but it showed no signs of hostility.
Instead, it simply stood there, and made a brief, strange creaking sound--as if trying to communicate. Then it paused... waiting.
@Rift
Rift sat back on his haunches and accepted the compass, holding it in his paws and watching as the arrow turned. But it wasn’t pointing at the water - no, it was pointing backwards, towards the mountain. Rift turned, looking up towards the peak, confused.
He looked back at the compass, as if doubting it, but no, it still pointed there. He slowly handed it back to Oliver, gaze unfocused, thinking. If he wasn’t on the top of the mountain, he could be somewhere on the side. There were plenty of snow banks and ledges he could be on. Or in a cave. Or…was the mountain hollow?
He turned, standing, to observe the mountain again, and a flash of movement caught his eye. A small explosion of snow, as if something had just burst free. For a second, he couldn’t see anything, but then there was that strange sound and he realized that there was something there. It was white, almost blending in with the snow, and it looked like a really really large bug.
Rift blinked and then gently nudged the owl.
Rift slowly got to his feet and slowly approached the creature.
Oliver had taken the compass back into his talons, and was shuffling to face the way its needle was pointing (thinking of how confusing this was all getting) when Rift pointed out the Cleaner. Oliver turned, then did a double-take in some alarm. Hastily he hopped closer to Rift, lowering his voice, eyes fixed upon the creature.
He remembered the attack--if it could be called that--on Canis. The Praetors, so like this beast, but larger and far more menacing. This one, though--it was related, he was sure of it.