ORIGIN

Pride watched Envy doubtfully as he came up behind them, shaking his fur out and exhaling. He was larger now, his antlers more branched, with several thick tines. He still, however, was not a full-grown stag--he was slender, delicately pale, and still growing. Worse still, his eyesight had not improved in the slightest; he still saw everything through a thick blur of a haze, as if ice had frosted over the world.

It was a bad omen, and he gave a soft huff of worry.

"Are you certain the ones we are to impersonate aren't... here?" he asked again. He didn't like this plan. It left too much to chance, and if there was a failure, it could end very, very badly. They were walking into a situation where they were outnumbered.

"I very much dislike this plan. I will listen if you insist on it, but again, I do not like it." His voice was still quietly musical, but hushed, just in case any of these others were still lurking nearby. "I have said I only need to see the fur. You said the goose is wearing it, so we only need to hide, and wait for it to pass, and I can take it from afar. It never needs to know we're there. I find this entire thing... unnecessarily risky," he finished, tone thick with reluctance.

He glanced ahead, then to Envy once more, again softly snorting.

"I urge you to reconsider this approach."

Pride looked himself over, brow faintly knitted together.

"The problem, Envy," he responded quietly, "is that I will not run. I will fight whoever is there if they attack and if this happens, and we fail, it will be on your head." He felt sullent, reluctant, and he let the irritated threat loom in the air. If Envy pushed this and it went wrong, well, he'd find someone else to be "king."

He had to admit, though, even through his reluctance, that yes--he would need to get in close. He just could not understand why they couldn't only lure the goose out.

Really, someone should kill the thing, and whichever of its brood were equally violent. These things are a danger, and shouldn't be left to harm others. Sadistic beast.

Pride considered. He was hardly a coward, but nor was he a fool, and everything about this rang "idiotic" in his mind. To walk right into their nest, and--did Envy even know how many there were?

"Tell me this much, at least," he said with a sigh. "How many of them are there?" If they were outnumbered, he'd call it here. There was no point in risking everything, in possibly making things worse, with something so ill-thought-out.

He shifted his gaze to try and see Envy on his back, but all he could see was the shimmer of their magic. That alone was impressive, but it didn't change the fact that should the idiot goose's entire pack of madmen be in there, and speak to them, they could not answer. And should the illusion fall--well.

Pride thought about this question for a moment, though not too long--he didn't want to tax the weasel. Oh--but there went the magic, anyway; and Pride took a moment longer, mulling his thoughts over.

He knew he had very little experience in these things. He didn't know what would work, and what wouldn't, but it seemed to him to be a foolish risk to put themselves into a situation where they'd be potentially surrounded by enemies if something went wrong.

For a moment, too, he considered the same thing Envy did: a distraction. But even then, putting the asshole goose on alert without actually needing to seemed... well. Unwise.

The way he saw it, they could play the waiting game: they could lie in the darkness and watch the goose and its "family" (he sincerely doubted, given her vicious madness, that she had anything resembling a true family)--and then pounce once they found her alone.

But that could take days, and anyway, it left them open to accidental discovery by a group of them, which would land them in the same situation as before.

They could try to call her out--by name, and quietly--without alarming her? He wasn't sure the goose knew Envy's voice. And if the weasel could make them invisible, Pride had a good chance of doing what he wanted, without her ever seeing them. There was still the risk that she might haul her whole family out, but at least this way they could hide somewhere first--on a ledge, perhaps--somewhere they could flee.

That seemed, after some consideration, to be the best idea he could come up with.

"If we can find someplace near the den to hide, somewhere we can retreat from without being cut off, but somewhere that overlooks the tunnel--someplace high, and dark. You can make us invisible, and call out, and if she comes out, even if it is with family, I can do this. I think she would come even to a challenge, but merely calling her name might do it. It was Blackberry," he added, with a sneer; the name was so kind and delicate, so unlike the mind-damaged savagery the bird had displayed.