ORIGIN

"Speech"

Away from everyone he'd fled.

Legs barely moving any more, he'd had to drag himself. Blistered skin showed instead of the proud, silver-streaked coat he'd been growing into. Scabs and exposed skin all over his back legs and lower spine. His tail still held a few wispy threads of fur, blackened and curled from the heat. His front half was left mainly unharmed, making him appear as though his front and back had been crudely slapped onto one another as a sick joke. He'd escaped, but barely. With help of course; he'd never have lived if it hadn't been for Caravaggio.

Even still, when the time had come, Todd had fled. Mashed polutices of herbs and flowers stung as they were rubbed into his wounds, causing him to whine and cry. It was for the best; that's what he'd been told. But how was he meant to believe them, after what happened? It was mindless trust that took his ability to walk. Todd felt like he believed nothing any more. He had nothing left to believe in but himself, and even then he was a small and fragile thing. So easily overcome by pain, so easy to snuff out. He remembered the bones in Canis, how Khloros had explained they'd been like him once, and shivered softly. He wanted to go back for that skull he'd found. He'd forgotten about that skull, even after he'd promised to go back and tell it about their adventure.

Perhaps he'd recover given time, but Todd didn't know that. He lacked both a sense of optimism and pessimism. all that lived in him now was fear and mistrust. He lived in the now, not in what he was going to do. And in this now, Todd was feeling vaguely sorry for himself as he dangled his back end in the cool water of the lagoon. He'd been hesitant at first, but feeling the waters of the tiny ponds lapping around had made the pain go away more than anything else. It was like things were finally looking up, yet Todd had been lying here for hours now, never moving or caring, with complete disregard for food or water.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Todd focused. Focused, and focused on his gem. But nothing happened. It didn't even glow.

Todd's small paw absently played with the glowing feather Macawi had given him. He remembered her words and how he hadn't understood them; part of him wished he still didn't, and the other half resisted. He strained to remember her exact words. Something about darkness. Something about strength. Something about purity. Bah. What was the point?

Without even saying a word, Todd hid his face in his paws and sobbed, the tiny noise hidden behind the roar of the crashing waterfall.

Baroque was considering where he wanted to put his garden. The idea had been slowly festering in the back of his.... mind, though he wasn't sure when it had really come to fruition. His mother had always had a way with finding the most beautiful blossoms to tuck in his sisters' fur-- to their disdain-- but that had always been a girl thing, not a boy thing.

Perhaps it was his way of trying to get closer to his mother, but there were other moments in his life. Adventures with Thistle, chasing down the rarest flower in the deepest snow... And searching Bevy's den, staring at the vines that dropped down over the entrance, the moss that grew softest by the entrance, the way he found her memories in the dried herbs and bandages that she had abandoned in places in her death that no one seemed to notice.

Suffice to say, it all had come to a point. Cancer's old den behind the waterfall was a nice, cool, damp place but he couldn't remember if it got enough light. That was why he trotted into the quiet space today, a bit out of sorts, his tail twitching with the distractions of a greater plan in his head. The grizzly lion cub was starting to reach a reasonable size, easily rivaling a large house cat, and when he saw the fox he froze and his fur puffed up to make him look even bigger.

He didn't recognize this stranger, nor did he even really know what kind of thing it was. He could smell the burn skin and fur, making his lungs revolt as he struggled to hold back a cough. He didn't speak, heart in his throat, as he realized the creature was hurt, worse, it was crying.

"H-hello? A-are you okay?" Baroque stammered out a question, afraid of startling the fox. He kept his distance from the injured vulpine gembound, ears flat against his skull. Although it was, frankly, against his nature to purr without another cat around, the young boy forced a rumble to his chest-- hoping that the stranger would know he was friendly, harmless.