ORIGIN

Dovefeather was losing her visions, reality clawing its way back into her mind. One morning, the feline awoke feeling positively normal and she almost vomited as a result, shaking ferociously with that violent purr that took hold in her chest once more. Her eyes wide, pale golden spheres, she stared at the ordinary jungle home she lived in, waiting with baited breath for the vines to rise up around her and try to enter her pores. Nothing strange happened for a great long while, though once she stepped out of the medical den that her sisters had provided, she was met with the cold touch of snow.

The All Mother was sick. As sick as she had been, and she had tried-- when Dovefeather's body was wracked with poisons-- to send her the messages. They had been strange, archaic even, but the feline knew what her first step was. She had to retrieve her feather, reclaim her name. The name, the symbol, did not matter to the shivering, vibrating cat but it did matter to the All Mother. If reclaiming the feather would bring a soothing to the Monarch's suffering, rekindle their bond... Then Dovefeather would do it.

For now, she knew she was not to go by her old name. Her sisters might argue, but Dovefeather she was not. She was an unnamed creature, a thing with only one purpose... Revenge. Pristine white paws carried her from her den, through the icy snow, as she started to trek her way out of Eridanus. There was a chance her sisters would catch her, but she wasn't sneaking for that reason. Her body was a vicious, electric hum that rang through the silent, snowcast forest-- if her sisters wanted to know where she was going, what she was doing, then they could come and ask. Her body was bathed in brilliant, bright light that danced around her, twisting and reflecting in the white crystal flakes under her pawsteps.

She would tell them. It was almost as if the cat was daring them to try and stop her-- but no, there was no way they could. The All Mother had sent her signs, messages in her sleepwalking, delirious state. Not a single 'feather could deny her now. Her lips parted and out hissed a single, soft prayer,

"O All Mother, Your Bleeding-Heart will reclaim what is Ours."

Bones was pretty sure that the cold white-stuff only lived in tunnel M, but it seemed to have migrated. He stood on the edge of tunnel I, staring in, and slowly he lifted one paw to touch the blanket of snow. He winced as the cold shot through his leg, but he continued on regardless.

He had to find Booker. What if he'd freeze to death here? He slowly hobbled along, fur not thick enough to save him from the cold. He noticed every time he breathed out something akin to smoke rose out from his mouth and nose.

He took note of the prints scattered in the snow, belonging to other gembounds. The dog frowned, more to himself, but continued on to the giant white mushroom. Booker had called it 'Mother.' He didn't understand how his mom could possibly be a mushroom.

Bones had just shrugged it off when he reached it; though the creature standing there wasn't Booker; it was somebody else. Somebody he faintly recognized. Slowly, he sat on his haunches, wincing as it hit the snow.

"Hello?" he barked out quietly, sitting quite a distance from Dovefeather.

Pale golden eyes fell on the tall, distantly familiar form. For a moment, she nearly mistaked the boy for Basil, with his fluffy, striped fur and strong muzzle... The Bleeding-Heart unsheathed her claws at the imposter blocking her way, trying to place his face. Her spine arched, fur bristling, until the canine sat down and woofed softly towards her, keeping his distance.

The feline inhaled through her mouth, tasting his scent and hitting a familiar, dusty smell. Bones was certainly cleaner than his mother or her aardwolf love, but the dryness of bones clung to the canine's fur. Her ears laid back but she retracted her claws, trying to come up with a name but failing.

"You're Giggle's son, aren't you?"

She asked coldly, holding back the surge of questions that rushed to the for front of her mind. She had other matters more important than what had happened to Giggle, and to the monster that had poisoned the All Mother-- those things had to wait until she was Dovefeather once more.

The monochrome cat prowled forward, slowly dropping out of her defensive stance. Her posture relaxed and she tilted her head, giving the dog a slow, calm blink. He was a friend, after all, or at the very least a son of a friend. She was just on edge for other reasons.