ORIGIN

Shifting ever so slightly on the damp ground, dark colored plumage fluffing up ever so slightly as the cygnet stared up at the trees above him, Useless, his wings beat the air at his sides, serving no purpose rather than to simply cause a flurry of noises from the small bits of grass and leaves scattering from the movements. Why couldn't he be bigger? He didn't want to wait to fly! There was so much to see!

A disappointed whine left his throat, his attention slowly shifting to the area around him when the low rumble of his stomach prompted the Cygnet to remember just why he was wandering around. Of course, his instincts had offered no help, attempting to eat a low hanging stick had led to a slightly hurting tongue, and a dreadful taste in his throat. He was mildly glad he spat it out when he had. The vague memory of the taste sending a shiver down his spine, causing the soft downy fluff to puff up, shrouding most of the stone on his chest and parts of his face.

Dark hued eyes turned back towards his front, attempting to figure out just what to do as his stomach continued to growl. Occasionally making a quiet honking sound, maybe he could get someone who would be willing to help him find something?

"Speech"

The Great Horned Owl was staring, eerily motionless and silent, toward a crack in the rock. There was a scuttling, a squishing. He was hungry, and he knew from experience that if he stared at the scuttling sounds long enough (for he was blind, hence the eerie motionlessness), that eventually a skittering thing would come up to him.

Then he would snatch it, and squeeze it until it stopped scuttling (otherwise, sometimes, they bit him), then eat them.

But now he could hear something else: a soft honking somewhere nearby, a rumble following--someone's hungry stomach? It was distant, hard for even the owl's impeccable hearing to pick up, but it sounded like someone in distress.

Curious--and feeling a vague sense of responsibility for this stranger in Maji Walezi's home territory--he hopped and glided low to the ground until he was nearing the source. He landed, peering toward the sound of feathers rustling, and hooted a gentle greeting. He then spoke, voice soft and melodious.

"Hello? Who's there? Are you someone new? Are you hungry?"

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The forest was quiet with the exception of his occasional honk, downy feathers slowly returning to their previous stances and returning his normal, bird appearance. On awkward feet, the Cygnet moved towards where he would guess some sort of food source would be located.

The sudden arrival of the owl was unexpected, prompting the small swan to honk in fright, scuttling sloppily into the only hiding place the small Cygnet could find. Though as the gentle hoot broke the silence, the swan peered out from his 'cover' easing his body from the bush, the gray feathered water fowl slowly tilted his head, hearing their words.

'Hello? Who's there? Are you someone new? Are you hungry?'

As if on queue, his stomach growled once more, prompting a quiet, almost hesitant answer from the swan, though his fear quickly dissipated to a loud excitment

"Hi there! You're new! Are you going to be my friend?" Varne paused, nodding eagerly to the owl's question, not seeming to notice the others blindness.

"I'm Varne! Who are you?"

"Speech"
"Thought"

The owl perked up at once at the sound of the swan's friend, cheerful tone. He fluffed out his own feathers slightly, eyes half-closing in a sort of avian smile.

"Hi! I'm Dark. I'm an owl. I'm blind," he explained in a musical, cheerful tone. "Did you just hatch? This is Pisces. It's where Maji Walezi lives. They're water-protectors," he added, as if he weren't a part of them.

"Come with me! I know where we can get some food."

He turned and hopped a few paces away, then turned back to listen as to whether Varne was following, clicking his beak gently in thought.

It didn't occur to him that the swan might not want to eat rats. Oh, well.

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Varne watched with childish curiosity as the owl fluffed his feathers, the eerie glow to sightless eyes being blocked out ever so slightly as they closed their eyes with a faint smile.

'Hi! I'm Dark. I'm an owl. I'm blind,'

The swan only lifted his head at the explanation, waddling a little closer to the large bird with a curious hum. breaking the usual S shape to his neck to stare at Dark's eyes, trying to understand what blind meant.

'Did you just hatch? This is Pisces. It's where Maji Walezi lives. They're water-protectors,' Oh! He was being asked questions still. Varne quickly shook his head, returning to his previous stance with an excited nod.

"Yeah! I hatched...." the swan paused, staring at the foliage above in thought before continuing, "I 'unno how long ago... But I hatched! ... whats Maji Walezi?" Varne asked, tilting his head to the side, only to bob his head excitedly as the owl spoke once more.

'Come with me! I know where we can get some food.'

Varne simply nodded his head once more, an excited honk leaving his throat as he waddled after the owl. They were gonna find food! He knew it! He knew there would be someone willing to help him out here!

"Speech"

The owl answered cheerfully as he hopped along, winding his way along the snow-slicked stone. He wasn't sure what snow was, only that it was colder and wetter than usual, and sometimes his feet crunched in what he assumed was very cold sand that hadn't been there before.

"They're others who live here. They're like a family I guess. They watch over the water to make sure no one makes it dirty. There's scouts, and guards and things," he explained; but even so, he only sounded half-interested himself. "Bevy is one of them. She's a bird, like me. She's little but very nice. I think she's my mother."

Onward he hopped, eventually going quiet and turning his attention to the nearby rock ledges. He started pausing, here and there, listening more than talking, until eventually he froze, facing a dark crevice in the stone. He half-turned to gesture Varne over with a taloned foot.

"There's a rat in there," he explained in a near-whisper. And so there was; but it was a large rat, a huge black cave rat with crooked whiskers and even crooked-er teeth stained yellow, and eyes that seemed to glow like coals. Clutched in its paws was a large, juicy fruit that it had started to gnaw on.

Dark looked blindly back at Varne. "Do you know how to get them?" he asked, and though he meant the rat, he might be easily misunderstood as meaning the fruit.

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The swan nodded his head as the owl spoke, glancing around at his surroundings to try and see where they were going. As Dark continued to speak, Varne paused, feathers puffing up ever so slightly with an excited bounce to his step.

"Bevy? I know bevy! Bevy's nice!" He said, nodding quickly before turning his attention to where the owl was gesturing with a clawed foot. Having to strain to hear Dark's words before the Swan hummed in acknowledgement.

"I see it." he said, his attention instead going to the fruit the Rat was holding, his stomach growling in acknowledgement to the sweet scent before turning his attention back to Dark.

'Do you know how to get them?' The owl asked, and Varne shook his head.

"No... It looks too big to pull it out." He mumbled, lowering his head into the feathers of his neck, his wings shifting uselessly at his sides to pull more warmth into the limbs.

"Do you?"
"Speech"

Dark pondered, for awhile, listening and watching.

"Usually, it just comes to me," he explained quietly. Usually the rats didn't already have food, and if he sat there long enough they'd simply walk right into his clutches, sniffing curiously. (Being blind, the poor bird really had no idea he was murdering small animals.) Sometimes, he pounced on the sniffing sounds and squeezed them and ate them, but it still didn't occur to him to consider that he was causing pain or the like. To him, it was as innocent as gathering, well, fruit.

Eventually he decided to try to simply do just that--run in and jump on the rat. Of course, he couldn't see that it was a giant Cave Rat, and didn't realize that hopping onto one in an enclosed space probably wasn't a great idea.

In he pounced, and then the rat was squealing shrilly, hopping and twisting and biting at the owl, who flapped frantically and clung on for dear life with all eight talons.

A moment later it bolted from the crevice, the owl half-riding it like a startled blind cowboy--but at least they'd left the fruit behind...? Whether the swan would help the owl, or grab at the prize, remained to be seen.

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