ORIGIN

Giggle let out a long, slow, soft exhale. A story.

She rose up and moved to half-cradle Bones with the curve of her body, flopping down in the manner of maternal hyenas everywhere. Her dark eyes gazed out into the shifting fronds of Eridanus's ferns as she considered.

"There are big bones, and there are little bones," she began, her hoarse voice softer than usual. She found it oddly easy to focus, the ideas and words flowing from her--it was as if the forming of a story distracted her mind just enough from the madness perpetually threatening to overtake it.

"There was a story, once. A great dog came to the bones, and beside him was a small... snake," she decided, "whose scales glittered gold and silver. The snake was wise, and the dog bold. The dog looked upon the bones, and saw the big ones, the thick ones, the ones so big they would break your skull if they fell upon you. And he said, 'Those bones must have been the bones of great heroes, or monsters.'"

Giggle glanced at her son. She wondered if he was asleep, and continued somewhat more quietly, just in case he was. "But the snake knew more of the bones, and he slithered into them. 'That may be,' he said, and he came back out with a tiny, thin and fragile bone in his mouth. This he laid at the dog's feet, and then he said, 'but this bone was from the greatest hero of them all.' The dog looked incredulous. 'But how can that be?' he said. 'It is barely the size of only one of my paws."

Let him hear a story of fantasy. A story of heroes, and hope. Of courage, of--fire. 'And the snake told a story of his own. He told of a war, long ago, in the caves: a war between many factions, who fought and battled over petty disputes. When a great threat came, they could not come to agreements on who should lead them into battle; as the threat loomed closer, they continued to bicker and fight. One small bird, with feathers like living fire, had the sense and the courage to speak out.'"

Giggle paused for a moment, licking Bone's head between the ears, grooming a spot she'd missed prior. Then she went on, after a brief pause to consider how this story should go. "'The bird went to the greatest warlords in the cave, who could crush her underfoot in the blink of an eye, and she boldly warned them of what would befall them if they battled one another. She argued with the fiercest heroes, and she faced down the strongest hunters. She got to know them, and told them of one another, making peace until many who were enemies, became friends. She showed them they were not so very different from one another. Though she angered many, none had the will to strike her down, for they knew that her song was truth. And though many were stubborn, her fire kept her even more determined, relentless, until she had turned them all to her cause. When the great enemy attacked, it found the forces all united against it, the fiery little bird singing at the forefront.'"

"The snake," said Giggle, "then looked to the dog, and nudged the tiny bone. 'It was the smallest among them who gathered the largest, who ensured that those fighting one another joined forces to fight a single true enemy. It was the tiniest of the creatures who was the hero to gather all other heroes. Strength of will,' said the snake, 'and courage; determination, and heroism--you don't need to be a giant to hold these in your heart.'"

Seeing the shared imagery of the small fiery bird in these scenes playing out within Giggle's mind, Omen curled closer, peering.

What bird? it asked her, curious. Giggle nudged it gently, thinking.

A bird in my mind, she answered thoughtfully, after a beat. A good, strong bird, like you.

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ROLL THE BONES

Bones watched for a moment as Giggle came closer before he turned to bury his face into her fur, shifting quietly to get himself comfortable. The scent of half-washed hyena and fungus didn't deter him in the slightest, instead it brought back memories of childhood, when he was just a pup.

He found it a lot easier to relax once Giggle started speaking as well. She seemed like herself again, if only for a moment. He listened, ear flicking, imagining the story out in his head as he heard it. He thought of the great dog as something like Kerberos-- large and white and strong, though at the lack of mention of this dog's head-count, Bones decided that story-Kerberos would only have to have one.

He didn't know many snakes-- not to mention snakes that were gold and silver, but he supposed it wasn't too hard to imagine. He remained quiet regardless, only listening, and briefly nudged at Giggle's shoulder when she spoke a little more softly, to reassure her that he hadn't fallen asleep yet.

He flicked an ear, wondering for a time what a bird with 'feathers like living fire' would look like. A part of him wanted to imagine Azazel, but on fire-- but that somehow seemed wrong. Fire hurt, after all.

Regardless, he didn't question it-- he only imagined Azazel with feathers flickering like flames, being brave-- and female --and going to great warlords. Dragons, maybe, like Raheerah.

He was, for a time, reminded of his own magic. He wasn't particularly well-versed in it, but he quietly wondered if he should practice it more. He could be like the fire-bird, maybe, a hero and a diplomat.

Bones sighed, eyes shut. "Did the bird have a name?" He asked quietly once Giggle eventually finished her story. He felt comfortable and relaxed regardless, beginning to drift asleep-- only just awake to hear the answer.

Giggle considered, giving Bones the gentlest of nuzzles.

"It was a good name," she said, at last. "A name that should have been remembered, and it was, for many many years. I do not know the name."

She shifted in place. Her voice, now, was soothing--or as soothing as the hoarse and masculine being could make it--and quiet, in an attempt to lull her exhausted son to sleep. "There's a little fire-bird in all of us, I think. Sometimes we lose hope. We lose our way, in the dark, or the cold. We fight with others where we shouldn't. We lose track of what's important. When that happens, Bones, you must find a spark inside yourself and reignite. Find that little bird and let it blaze. It's our determination and our will, our discipline and our ferocity."

She realized, then, that she was thinking primarily of Omen--of a little bird who'd been her savior, when her mind was lost to quite literal darkness, and to despair. The Caller was most certainly not made of fire--but the bird had sparked hope once more within Giggle. A will to live, and to fight.

It was something she wanted her son to know: that this could well back up within you. Bones's "spark" had always been strong--but if it ever went out, she wanted him to remember... it didn't have to stay that way.

Giggle turned to give Omen a nudge; the black bird curled closer against her, its eyes closing. Giggle sighed through her nose and laid her head down, as well, though her dark eyes remained open.

One of them would have to keep watch, and she decided it would be her. Let Bones sleep; let Omen sleep. She would just keep watch.

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ROLL THE BONES

With his eyes shut, Bones considered his mother's words for a long time. A part of him wanted to go out and find this bird for himself, to find out her name. The logical side of him would have long assumed that it was just a story, but the way Giggle told it made him think otherwise.

She was long dead, of course-- her bones in Canis, perhaps. He'd have to find the dog or the snake-- specifically the snake, in fact --to find out.

He'd need to find Azazel's son, first.

With a yawn, Bones gently nudged Giggle's shoulder before slumping down, never once opening his eyes. "Thank you for the story," he murmured quietly before drifting off to sleep.