ORIGIN

The thin hyena was trotting quietly down to her bone pile, her path well-illuminated by the thick forests of bioluminescent mushrooms she had grown all around. Her obsession with her fear of the darkness had led her to this: to creating her own light, all around, the light that the white wolf had shown her. The gift that Kera had brought.

As she picked her way down into the darkness of the bone pit, she slowed.

I need to consult the bones. Consult the bones. Ask them, ask them, ask them. What do I do. Where do I go. I must aid. I must help. I must fight the dark or we all will drown.

Fear threatened to choke away coherent thought--a memory of the void, of eyes in the darkness--but she fought it back, though it left her trembling. Her sojourn into the nothingness, the world of shadows, had left its mark on the damaged, thin hyena.

She slowly sat, lowering herself to her haunches, forepaws just within the glowing ring around her bone pit. She had to find out what it was she could do--how she was meant to act, now. The bones had told her truths: as had the fungus that lay strewn through Canis, feeding from the rot of the dead.

Darkness would come, again and again.

She was damaged.

She had no place among her kind any longer.

Nearby, her familiar--a black Hallowed Caller bird with a single red eye in its skull--flitted down and eyed the bones from her side. As always, its simple image-and-emotion thought was translated, in a sense, to simple words by Giggle's mind.

What are you doing, Mother-Sister?

Giggle turned to Omen, calming some at the bird's presence. Her own thoughts came back controlled and peaceful. I will speak to the bones, little one, she replied in her mind.

The bird hopped around the pile's edge, briefly pecking at them. Giggle knew her thoughts. I never hear them speak. Only you, mother-sister.

Giggle looked back to the pile of bones.

They do not speak, Sister-daughter. But I hear them nonetheless.

Quietly, Giggle stood; and with a studious, focused manner, began to pick her way through the pit.

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The hyena stood for a time, belly-deep in bones. From the outside she might have looked mad: motionless, head down, silent. But she was examining them with her dark eyes: picking one to act as her avatar, her 'self' in the reading she was about to do.

At length she lifted a thick leg bone in her jaws, and turned, leaping and wading her way out of the pile. Omen hopped beside her, letting out a couple long and haunting cries, and together the pair made their way up to the ledge overlooking the pit.

There, Giggle carefully, even reverently, set the heavy bone down at her forepaws. She gazed down, and with a sort of quiet, spiritual respect, framed her question in her mind.

Bones, you have told me that I no longer fit. That I am damaged. You have told me that the caves will fall into darkness, and all will drown... I have seen this. What should I DO? I don't want us all to drown in the black. I want to fight. I want us to survive.

She gripped the bone in a sudden movement with her teeth, and hurled it over. Quickly she stood, peering down as it clattered in among the bones--watching as it scattered them in the dim bioluminescense below.

She watched how the patterns formed. How the bones fell. And her mind, as ever, fell into quiet murmuring.

There. A new one, but damaged. Not-new. Destroyed. Rebirth. New life. Troubles with children. Troubles with family. Must be wary: new life... rebirth... family, it's all wrong. All bad. All bad.

The hyena turned her head, pacing atop her ledge, not noticing Omen hopping to and fro as the bird tried, too, to see whatever it was that Giggle saw. There, there. It's all together. There. The new life. The rebirth. It's--it draws together, in the end. Delayed. Delayed. It must wait. I must make it wait. What life? Why? Things come together. Family? New family?

The hyena snorted and let out a soft cackle of confusion, of worry, pacing more swiftly, dark eyes narrowing at the bone pit below. Slowly, her thoughts became audible, muttering falling nonsensically from her maw.

"...the jawbone, smashed. Smashed. Shattered; no speech, no words, misunderstood. Misunderstood the bones. Misunderstood something."

She paused, peering down.

"...What did I misunderstand?"

With a few leaps and bounds she was down below again, wading through her bones with a clatter, seizing the shattered jawbone in her own teeth. This she carried to the top of the pile, and again she flung it down, staring intently in a half-crouch as the bones fell into place.

Omen peered up at her, curious, as she stared.

She could see the parts that hadn't changed. Nothing changes. Nothing's changed. And she could see the parts that had changed, but only a little. Pause and delay. It'll wait. It will wait. It will take long. And there, there--the horns. The skull. Food. Plenty. Plenty.

But what did this mean?

I am to wait? To wait here? To wait for new life. New bones. I will pick bones. I am to make life?

For a moment, all her dark gaze saw in answer, as her eyes flicked over her bones, were shattered bones, and broken ones.

Delay.

Destruction.

Chaos.

NO! Now! Now! I must act now! The delays, they will bring destruction--I must act?!

The hyena paused, forepaw in the air, staring down at her bones far below.

They were scattered, and they were flipped around; they were falling from the pit. They were falling away. They were leaving; they were starting a new journey, away from this place.

Power was leaving.

Journeys were beginning.

With a flicker, the orbs of the cave began to blink back on.

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ROLL THE BONES

For a time she stood frozen in the glow of the orbs. Surreality flooded through her--none of this was real. None of this could be real. She stood safely bathed in light--yet fully exposed. The darkness repelled--yet she could clearly be seen by those that hunted beyond it.

And yet, the bones looked different, now--new, in the glow of the orbs, though their cast had not changed. The skull, now--the cow's skull--shone most brightly at the center, clear and pristine. And all around it the bones lay bright, now, and clean. The plenty that it represented: the fat and the meat and the sustaining of life.

Victory. The light has pushed back the darkness. The light will push back the darkness!

And suddenly, she understood the delay. It wasn't a delay, not exactly--though she knew she must wait, though for what--that was unclear. Perhaps she would ask the bones, again. But she knew now that the cycles of light and dark and the blackness that came--they had to fight against it. She had to fight against it. Against the stagnation of these cycles. Against the final dark that she had seen coming.

She wondered, for a moment, if the white wolf had had a hand in this--yet she knew that she had. Giggle had foreseen it, after all--foreseen the light that came with Kera, that wreathed her in it. Yet Giggle had seen, too, that final darkness come.

With a bounding few gallops the hyena hurtled down to stand beside the bone pile.

Life. Life. They spoke of new life, the bones.

How do you make life from bones, Sister-Mother? Omen's mind asked meekly.

I do not know, Sister-Daughter. But I must try, for the bones have spoken, Giggle's mind replied.

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Her frenetic energy, driven by the return of the lights, was both excited and near-feverish. Omen, feeling this through their link, hopped to and fro somewhat nervously at the pile's edge. The bird's head flicked to and fro, her single red eye peering into the darkness.

Giggle, meanwhile, was digging rapidly through the bones. She remembered, now, that many had gems--and now that she remembered this, they seemed a sea of them, all glinting in a half-hidden rainbow from among the pile.

She was going to give them new life. Why, she did not know. How? Well, she had no idea. And when--that, she knew. She had to wait for something. For-... what? Well, that, she didn't know, either. She'd know what the time came, she supposed; the bones had been clear on this. It couldn't be right away.

Selecting the bones--and the gems--that would be important. So for a long fifteen minutes or so she dug, discarding first this bone and that as not feeling quite right, somehow. She pulled out a big herbivore's skull, at last--like the cow's, but the cow had already played a center role, and still shone brightly at the center of the pile. No, this one, this one felt right. It was strong, thick, with two long lyrelike horns--and a soft green gem shimmering at the center of the skull, some distance between the eyes and the horns.

Gently, delicately, she lay this outside the pile.

A moment later she dove back in, her dark eyes wild. This one! --It was tiny. So delicate, as delicate as Giggle was when lifting the bones. So fragile. A tiny pinprick of blood red--like a drop of the liquid suspended fresh on the bone--shone as a tiny, glittering gemstone fragment along its length.

She carried this one out--not even big enough to fill the first skull's eye socket; she lay this one over its top, between its horns.

Panting, weary with fevered exhaustion, the thin hyena plunged one last time into the pit.

This time the bone she pulled forth was unidentifiable, long, thick, yet surprisingly light. It was beautifully-formed, pale and smooth, and shone with a long stretch of shimmering blue-black gem, a bright blue labradorite that seemed to stretch deep, like water, within.

This last bone she carried out--long and unwieldy, even for a hyena--but this one, too, she lay delicately down. She then lay down, herself, her head on her forepaws, staring at the three bones.

I don't know how, bones--beloved bones--my bones. But I will bring life to you again, as you've brought us so many gifts... She closed her eyes, for a time, and--in the comfort of the bright lights--she slept.

Dreams gripped her--dreams of the whispers of the bones, the guidance of the long-dead who had seen cycles beyond measure. The knowledge that they brought, and the life that they needed. She woke, still unsure how to do this, but secure in her decision.

Omen hopped alongside her as she secured them away, hiding them carefully where she was sure none would find, and then she nestled in among the bone pile once again to sleep away the hours.

For once--perhaps because of the lights--she found herself unafraid.

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Several days had passed. Giggle had watched the caves; watched the lights. They'd stayed on--for now, at least. She had hunted the rats, drank Canis's stale water, slept. And now, at last, she felt the time was right.

"Omen," she called out, voice cracking hoarse with disuse. Her mind, too, called for her familiar, and soon enough the bird was by her side.

"Yes, mother-sister?"

Giggle replied in her mind, rather than aloud, trotting with her crooked lope toward the bone pile. She was gaining weight, at last--no longer rail-thin--and the nightmares, to some extent, had receded.

It's time. I don't know how but I'm going to bring them to life.

The bird peered, hopping along beside her, watching with its single blood-red eye. Giggle made her way to where she'd hidden the bones and, one by one, she pulled them free. She hauled them down, one at a time, to her fungus garden, where she'd grown carpets of mushrooms of a variety of types to keep them available--and where her drinking-pool of stagnant water lay. Too, her bedding area was here, pressed in among the boulders, and the entire area was lit even when the lights went out by glowing fungus.

First she carried the heavy horned skull with its shimmering green gem. She lay this beside her fungus pile, and trotted off again. When she returned it was with the long, oddly-light, smooth and pale bone with its strange stretch of blue labradorite shining within. Beside her, Omen flitted down, dropping the tiny thin bone with its pinprick of blood red stone.

Quiet, Giggle looked these over. She exhaled, and sat, and looked over the bones. "Well," she croaked at last in her masculine voice, "time to try."

She cast her mind to the fungus, to the bones, to the world-beyond-this-world, pondering. She called to the other-reality, the place of dreams and of death, and she asked for the knowledge to bring these bones back to life. She wasn't sure how. At length she hesitated, and stood, and lay one dark paw atop the heavy horned skull.

Nothing happened.

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The spotted hyena huffed quietly. Curiosity came to her along the familiar's link. Her mind, as ever, 'translated' the bird's thoughts.

What are you doing, mother-sister?

Giggle huffed slightly, a grumble escaping her.

"I'm not sure," she answered, and the response trickled along the link to the bird, translated as faint disappointment, confusion. "I'm trying to bring these back to life, but I don't know how." This went to the bird as a sort of vague desire for reproduction, for babies, and the bird hopped along, peering at the bones in some confusion of her own. She pecked lightly at the tiniest of them, and gave a soft and mournful cry.

I do not think babies come from bones, mother-sister, the bird thought at last, or rather, her confusion at any connection between these two concepts was turned to words.

Giggle exhaled, and slowly lay down, staring fixedly at the softly-shimmering green gem. She had to give it life, but how? The only way she could figure was her own. She could grow fungus, after all--surely she could grow a simple rock? One with life already inside?

With this in mind, the hyena closed her dark eyes, focusing deeply on the gem within the skull before her, and on growing it back to life.

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Giggle felt it take, this time.

She felt her energies flow into the rock, felt it spark in reaction as the fungus so often did, and felt the rush of approval from all around her as if the cave itself delighted in her magic.

She huffed, dark eyes opening, staring with some excitement at the now-glowing stone in the skull.

It worked.

Omen stared, for a beat, then hopped over, her little head tilting to and fro as she eyed the skull. Her confusion was clear. This isn't a baby. No nestling.

"No, not yet," Giggle agreed hoarsely. She felt content for the first time in ages. It was working; she was returning life to the dead, giving back to the bones that had so often given to her.

Now, to the next one. Omen was already hopping around the tiny bone again, pecking briefly at the blood red dot of rock that looked so much like her own eye, and Giggle gently nudged her aside. She picked the bone up between her teeth, and then carefully settled it beneath a nearby rock ledge, one large enough to house her own body. She wasn't sure how long it would take, or how even it would happen--but she felt, instinctively, that what she was doing was right.

Careful, concentrating, she lay the tiny bone down, and again focused on imparting some of her own magic--her own life essence--into the gemstone.

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She felt drained. She could feel the energy, the life, flowing from her to the red stone. What she hadn't realized was how difficult it would be, how much it would leave her feeling... emptied?

Slowly, she sat, and looked warily at the last stone.

"...Mother-sister?" Omen was hesitant, feeling her drained state, feeling her rapidly weakening.

Mm? No, I'm fine, little one, Giggle thought back, reassuringly. She glanced with a rearward flick of her ears and a kind expression toward the bird. Then, more to herself--Just the one left.,

She eyed it again. It was a strange bone--long, smooth and pale, unlike anything she'd ever seen, and despite its large size, was surprisingly lightweight. A bird, perhaps?

She lifted it in her jaws, and nestled it carefully at the water-side, nudging it to be safely hidden beneath the sparse overhanging plants. After a few moments she lay down beside it, lapping up some water before turning her gaze toward it once more. The bird followed suit, scooping water up in her black beak and tilting back her head to drink it down, before joining Giggle by the bone.

The hyena took a few moments to rest, first, to gather herself, as she watched the bone. She felt surprisingly near trembling exhaustion--perhaps she hadn't recovered as much as she'd thought? Or maybe giving life was simply this draining. She was creating it anew, after all.

Would it be her? Part of her? Would it be like a part of her had left her and gone into the bones?

Bones, I hope not. I want them to be... clear, and unafraid. She eyed the bones, each in turn, with a faint and quiet melancholy. She wanted them to be safe, and strong, like her Kerberos had been. She didn't want them afraid and broken like she was. She didn't want more Giggles limping about, chittering with fear of the dark.

No.

They were to be bringers of Light, and protectors of it, and never hiding in terror.

They would kill the eyes.

They would save the caves.

Quiet, Giggle turned and pressed her snout to the final bone, to its stretch of glittering blue stone like a sky she'd never seen, and closed her eyes.

She felt this last bit of life trickle out of her, felt it surge into the stone--which seemed to draw it in almost greedily. She felt herself weaken further, and after a moment she lay her head on her paws.

She was barely able to open her eyes, barely able to register that the blue stone, now, was glowing too. That it had worked. She felt Omen's link tugging at her mind, but her eyes slipped closed, and she fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion.

After a time, the Hallowed Caller gave up on waking her--Giggle was still alive, after all--and simply nestled into the hyena's fur to sleep.

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ROLL THE BONES