ORIGIN

The hyena listened, eyes again closed. She hadn't seen the flash of prismatic light. She still wasn't aware of Bones behind her. But she'd heard the cat's request clearly enough, and she'd ask what she wanted.

Giggle stood, turning to briefly lick Dovefeather's head, before stepping into the pit. She waded into the bones in almost-silence, barely clattering any ribs or leg bones together, instead looking over them before picking up a fully intact ribcage. It was small, delicate and bleached nearly colorless--an ashen white. Then the hyena turned to pace up the path, up and around to the ledge that overlooked the shallow pit.

Here she stood, staring down as if blind, yet her eyes were open. Delicately she set the ribcage down, turning to stare at Dovefeather as she spoke. Her voice again came hollow and empty.

"I do not know if I believe in such a thing as an 'all-mother,' but it may simply be another word for a thing we both believe in, so I will ask what you ask me to. If they are one and the same, however, then it may as well be the bones that have set you on this path, so the answer may not surprise you."

Then she looked down, and with a sharp, almost idle flick of her paw, sent the ribs spinning down into her pit with a clatter. Bones spun and whirled, smacking into other bones, one or two spinning right out of the pile and away. The ribs bounced, the bones closest to it flipping briefly into the air on impact.

As they settled, Giggle lowered herself to her haunches, sitting and watching them--searching for patterns in their chaos. Her voice, when it came, was still hollow and absent, her eyes still dark and empty, as if nobody was really in the shell that was her body. As if she were somewhere else entirely.

"To your past, the bones speak. The beginning was unsteady," she began. "Troubles, perhaps, with those who met you upon awakening--or merely trouble with your rebirth. With establishing yourself in the order of things. And then to your future, the bones speak. They speak of a distancing of yourself--perhaps the travels you speak of. A loss of connection with that which you value... family, or something more, I do not know. The bones speak of the end: that is, enlightenment. Little more need be said, I think, on that. A troubling start; a distancing; and enlightenment. Perhaps your journeys are precisely what the bones wished of you."

Giggle remained motionless, staring down at the bones as if still not seeing them.

"Is there anything else you would ask of the bones?"

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Roll the bones.

Bones tilted his head. He didn't particularly understand how Giggle would see the bones, nor did he want to interrupt her. The dog got up to his feet with a sigh - Kerberos would surely be more talkative.

The pup began to limp off tiredly, bleary-eyed towards Tunnel K.

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Normally, the answer would have been an obvious "no." But something about the cat and the situation said simply,

Let her try.

And so she did. She nodded once, not noticing her adopted "son" slipping away to find his playmate. Instead her focus was wholly on the cat, seeing its strange curled fur, its tattered feather and the intensity of its gaze.

"Yes," she answered simply, "you may try." The hyena shifted in place, and thought, briefly.

Should I explain to her my methods? How I choose a bone, when I ask my question of the bones, when to throw it? And how?

But a moment later she decided against it. No, she'd let Dovefeather choose her own method; she'd let the cat test the medium, the door that Giggle used. Let her open it her own way--or try to--and see if she could see through the gate that opened up. If even she got that far.

She wondered, as she watched, whether Dovefeather would see. So many who had come to her had tried. Some had seen in other ways; the bat Tal'at had been able to see what she had not, see in shapes and colors and concepts that were foreign to her. Some had thought that they saw; the foolish lion Usui had asked for a lesson, and then simply left as Giggle spoke, declaring that now he understood how to read the bones.

He had not.

Would this cat be any different? Where would she fall, on the spectrum of things? Perhaps her way to "see" would be found later, and this was but one stumbling step that would lead her to her final goal. Or perhaps she would see in other ways, or see something that Giggle could not.

Or maybe, she would see, as Giggle did. Maybe she would be the first.

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Roll the bones.

The name didn't click, with her--not at first. Had the cat said "Baratheon," she'd have realized at once--but Booker had been named only briefly, and only in passing, and in conjunction with Baratheon, whose name she knew. As it was, she was too focused on Dovefeather's question, on her reading--on how eerily prophetic her words sounded.

Is that what I sound like...? Impressive.

Aloud, she said, "If that is what you see, then perhaps it is what is. Let me look, myself, and I will tell you if I see the same."

Into the bones she gazed, into the patterns that their falling had made; and she read what they told her, and spoke.

"I see him in darkness, in ignorance, in fear. Withheld--yet not isolated. I see the future--the bones gather. All will come to fruition soon. He will be completed. It will be challenging--but rewarding. And his strength--his courage--will be tested. And it will be proved."

She sat back, thinking, glancing to Dovefeather.

"I think that you See. Did you see that in the bones? And--can you tell me more about this Booker? I have the nagging feeling that I've heard his name somewhere before."

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Roll the bones.