ORIGIN

The alligator held as still as he could as his brother scratched away. At first he barely paid attention, but eventually he realized that Ghanyarah just... wasn't finishing. In fact, he seemed rather lost, and some of his movements had that extra flair that suggested he wasn't aware of them, that he was lost in his own little world.

Dragon was curious, and his curiosity grew the longer Ghanyarah remained silent, scratching away at the stone--but he didn't move, didn't interrupt. In fact, he was careful to barely even breathe, going into that stillness he used when he lurked at the shoreline, waiting for prey.

At length--finally--Ghanyarah sat back. Dragon lifted his head to peer at the scratching, and for a moment he tried to make sense of it. It was nothing like the others, no simple circle and mark.

As his brain finally wrapped around what it was--a realistic depiction of a view of Polaris--his eyes widened.

There was the Spire, and all the little crystals. There was the cave roof--and it was all dark, scratched in to provide shading. And what was that?

...Him?

"It is --lovely. That is the Spire," he rumbled, drawing closer, tilting his head this way and that. "But I do not have wings, Brother. And I'm not that large." It was Raheerah, he supposed. Or him, taking the vast dragon's place. He hardly cared. It was a good map, a good marking of Polaris. He liked it.

He thought the others would, too.

"When we get Eve to make this glow, do you think she could make the Spire light up?" he asked slowly, turning the idea over in his mind.

Dragon peered at the drawing thus far, then huffed in thought.

"Get down, for a minute. Let me try something."

First, he reared back his head, and bellowed for Eve. They'd need her to light up what they'd done so far, at least, and he wasn't sure how long it might take her.

"EEEEVE?" he tried, voice reverberating. Then he drew closer, eyeing the gorgeous carving first one way, then the other.

He could blacken the rock with fire, then wipe it all carefully away, so that Ghanyarah's carving was black-lined--making it stand out even further. Yes--he'd do that. Or try, at least.

"Stand back," he commanded, then inhaled a slow, deep surge of cool, damp air to fuel his inner flames. He was careful--his flames came light, licking, not a blast of superheated fire. As he opened his broad jaws to exhale, the entire area lit with a bright glow. Fire poured forth and brushed over the rock, blackening it with soot, scorching his throat and mouth--but he didn't care, not really. He was hardened to it by now. His fangs ached, but a moment later he'd plunged his maw into the wet soil below, biting at the mud to cool his seared flesh. Then he looked up, and--tearing up a clump of wet grass--began to wipe at the drawing.

For a moment maybe it'd have looked like he was wrecking Ghanyarah's work--now, his reason would become clear, as the stone was washed clean. It was slick and damp now, but the scratched-in map would remain a charred black.

A damn good map, indeed.

Now--where was Eve?

Dragon looked around, then peered at Ghanyarah. "It takes forever for me to get anywhere on this leg. It might be best that I stay here--but who could search out the cave, for mapping? Maybe Eve can do that, too? Or--you?" he added, uncertainly.

Perhaps the lizardly cartographer, with a crow scout, would make the best cave-mapper there had ever been. Or maybe not. He wasn't sure, but he knew that he himself wouldn't be great at it; it'd take him weeks to haul himself around in his half-crippled state.

Dragon winced at poor Ghanyarah's brief panic, and made sure to clean the soot off more quickly.

"No, no, trust me--oh, Eve. Yes--what he said. I have not been outside of this cave, and Eridanus, and Polaris. I do not know what lies beyond. Can you make the map glow? Especially--the Spire, there?"

He nodded his broad shoe-shaped snout up to the Polaris map, admiring it again.

"Ghanyarah did good, didn't he? It really looks like Polaris. If we all make this together, then the Children of Rot will always have it to rely on. But... You can fly. Do you know the cave better, perhaps?"

He huffed a brief plume of thin smoke out through his nostrils, peering hopefully at Eve. He didn't dare hope she knew the whole cave, but even a room or two would be great. It would certainly be better than his knowledge--and, apparently, Ghanyarah's.

Dragon rumbled in thought. His bum leg really gave him trouble in terms of slow, long travel. He had to stop very often, and simply rest, laying there. Getting through the ice tunnel had taken hours, and he'd had to lay there and smolder like coals until he was able to move on.

Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have been clambering around on the Spire and exhausting himself, but still.

"I am reluctant to go. I will slow you, and it will make the going far more dangerous. It will be taxing, and home will be left unguarded. My leg is ruined," he added by way of explanation, jutting out his hind leg briefly.

"If you very much wish it of me, brother, I will come with you--but it is not for the best."

He then lay there, like a fat frog, squashed down into the marsh and awaiting their responses.