ORIGIN

Slow. Everything felt like molasses as of late, and whenever his gaze moved, the world swam for a moment, as if engulfed in a huge wave of water. Water. Which this place, wherever he was, didn't seem to have much of. Still, the beast trundled on, heavy hooves beating a steady gait across the forest floor.

Czernobog stopped for a moment, snuffling curiously at the plant growth that covered the room, nosing at a few particularly green stalks before, after a few more moments of hesitation, moving on. It wasn't his job to gather plants, anymore.

Or at least, he didn't think it was?

The boar, about as big as a full-grown newfoundland now, ambled along with a strange pace, half his back torn open and bloodied, small sections of bone visible, at least one rib broken and floating. Getting a dragon dropped on you could have that effect. Still, he wandered onwards, unable to force himself back to Cetus. Didn't know if his boat would even be there, or the small-friend, or the hat-friend. What he needed now was to heal. Alone.

It seemed fate had other plans, however, as he thumped right into a heavy... thing. Shaking his head and raising it from the ground with a dazed snort, Czernobog found himself staring straight into a... thingy. An egg? It looked kind of like his, in the water, but bigger and golden. Tentatively, the piglet leaned closer, raising an ear to the surface.

Sure enough, there was a heartbeat, steady and true, and Czernobog reared back with an excited squeal, tapping his hooves at the chrysalis' surface like a pig possessed. "Friiiiend! Chuuuuuuurn heeeeeelp!"

Apparently, this was a rather terrible idea, for as soon as he tapped at the egg, it rocked just forward enough to knock him backwards, crashing his exposed back to the ground and sending a spear of pain through his chest as the broken rib moved just enough to mess with all sorts of important bodily organs. Panting and squealing, the piglet got up once more, slowly, trembling, and got back to work, tip-tapping at the egg with all his might.

The dingo was still limping on one paw, her ribs bruised, the wound at her side aching. Hunting was difficult, like this, except when she was lucky enough to find burrowed-in rats that she was able to dig out. Cave deer were too fleet for her in this state, and so when she heard the sound of squealing and thumping, the clicking of hooves, when she caught the scent of blood, her mind snapped to attention.

Amber eyes seemed to swell around contracting pinpoint pupils as her breath caught, and she crouched, adrenaline screaming through her. Forward she prowled, through the ferns, through the grass, until the scent of blood caught her nose. Her hunger sharpened until she couldn't see or smell anything else, tunnel-visioned so that the large golden chrysalis went entirely unnoticed.

Even slower, even quieter she slipped along over the dark earth, until ahead, she finally spotted it: a large, shaggy black creature larger than herself, but viciously wounded. Skin hung open, muscle and bone visible.

Without hesitating, her biting hunger seizing her stomach and her mind both and driving her to action, she leapt down and arrowed toward the pig, bolting to the attack, trying to grab onto Czernobog's side near his wound and bite anywhere she could.

The shadow inside of the egg moved, just a bit, and Czernobog redoubled his efforts, snorting and grunting, hooves smacking against the crystal with dull clacks. So entrenched in his effort was he that the attack caught him completely off guard, as a weight hit into his side, sharp needle-point teeth biting into his hock, sending both he and the predator tumbling to the forest floor.

Squealing wildly, the piglet flailed in place, squirming, lifting his head just enough to lock his gaze onto the dingo currently digging its fangs into his flesh. With a wild bellow, the boar focused on getting it off, rearing back his free leg and preparing to kick the thing in the face.

post roll:
He had just enough energy to let the defense fly, sharp cloven hoof headed straight for the carnivore's face with a rabid squeal, hoping beyond hope it connected. The egg-thing was his responsibility, he was its singer, and he took his duties very, very seriously, as the enraged fire in his eyes was more than enough to show. "Kiiiiiiiiill!"

It happened so fast.

One second she was tearing into her target, right on point, everything to plan; the next she was sailing through the air, slammed in the face by a sharp and rock-hard hoof. Then there was a crack as she impacted the nearby cocoon. She wasn't sure if it was her bones that had broken, or the stone, but when she dazedly scrambled to three feet and turned, fourth forepaw held in the air, she found that there was a strange and small white thing between her and her prey. No, her enemy.

How did that get there?!

Rather bewildered at the sudden appearance of the white and bleating fawn, she took a few quick steps back. The black boar was vicious, and she paused for that microsecond just to see if he would charge her--if he did, she'd bolt off into the trees.

If not... perhaps the little white thing might make for an easier meal, one she could grab in her jaws and haul away?

Czernobog watched, wide-eyed and grinning in victory, as his defense connected, the shock of it rocketing up to his splintered spine. The pain wasn't enough to stop him for bellowing out his success, struggling to right himself up off the ground, grunting and squealing until he was up on all four stocky legs, ears pinned back and black eyes wide as the void.

Unfortunately, his kick sent the bitey-thing right into the egg, and the boar let out a furious burst of snorts, nostrils flaring, gaze flickering from the egg to the downed predator. No, no an egg any more - a baby. A scared baby. A scared baby who was right between him and the enemy. Screeching like a rat stuck in a trap, Czernobog charged forth, aiming to get his body between the dingo and the fawn. "Foeeeee!"

post roll:
And, by the grace of his noodley grandfather, the boar managed not to pass out from sheer strain just yet, swerving to stand right in front of the fawn, jaw open, one tusk glinting brightly in the light, the other cracked and bloodied, as if in warning. "Chuuuuuuurn! Fooooooe!"

The dingo knew a losing battle when she saw one.

Or, rather, the boar simply scared the hell out of her.

It was meant to be prey! Meant to be something to eat, to snatch up, to kill. It was big, sure but it was wounded, bloody. But no, it had to be big, it had to be fierce, it had to be black and bristling and screeching and scary.

With one last bitter look at the smaller, paler would-be meal, the dingo turned and sprang away into the underbrush, running flat-out for her life.

Boars are terrible people, she mused.