ORIGIN

It wasn't a place he came often. He preferred life; quiet places, full of whispering leaves and birdsong. This place, though... it held its own fascination.

For someone who strove so hard to weave life into the caves, to mend the injured and soothe the sick, it was strange to see Canis firsthand. The bones were... everywhere: a constant reminder of some great death that had visited this place. It had a feeling to it, a sense that anything could happen, no matter how dire.

Oliver was drawn back, then; and he'd wandered until he'd come to this place: a quietly secluded clearing between piles of bones and a rock formation that formed a sort of wall along the other side. There were a few ways in or out of this clearing, but for the most part it was quite large and very hidden, with but a few small pools of stagnant water.

He had sworn he'd plant these grass sprouts, and this seemed as good a place as any; they had no competition, and anyway, Canis could use a little green.

The hybrid dug with his talons, scratching out a few shallow holes in the muddy dirt that lay over the rock here. He planted the sprouts and used claws and nose to cover their sides, to hold them precariously upright. Then he took a few seeds and burrs he'd taken with him--mostly from Eridanus, but a few from Cetus too--and looked around.

How green can I make this place? He pondered for a moment, imagining Canis transformed into a beautiful jungle, or a forest, rife with life. He wasn't sure he could do this on his own, but there was no harm in trying, right?

Oliver began to quietly plant the seeds, scattered around the large clearing. Fanciful thoughts filled his mind: dreams of the clearing turning into a thick forest that remained hidden to all, until suddenly one day it overflowed its bounds, spreading bright and healthy over all of Canis. Images of the bones covered in ferns and grasses made him smile to himself as he worked.

At length he sat back and murmured quietly, tufted ears pricking up as he held clawed forelimbs splayed over the seeds, focusing on his magicka.

"Okay... I planted you. Let me help you so you don't--die, straightaway. I can give you a headstart, at least."

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver sat contentedly back on his haunches, a gentle smile over his face as he watched the seeds shimmer with his magic, little sprouts emerging from the dirt. One by one they formed a tiny army of green soldiers--hardly a forest or a jungle, no, but... well, it was a start.

He then paced over to the water, giving it a brief sniff.

"This is no good," he said quietly--speaking, it seemed, to the greenery itself. "I'll make it better, for you. Hold on." It would, he knew, do him good too, to have clean water to drink. He didn't intend to stay here forever, but it would be good to visit often--maybe to bring new plants in. When he did that, it'd be important to have food and water so he could sleep here for a night or two.

Oliver stepped so that his hind paws were at the edge of the largest of the pools, and again splayed talons over the dull brown surface. His face squinted up a little bit as he focused. "Okay, magic-... make it clean. Water, can you be clean, please?" he asked it politely.

It did not seem to feel like cooperating, at first. The hybrid rocked back on his haunches, exhaling a soft sigh through his nose and looking around. He wasn't sure what he could do better, but he'd have to find a way.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

For awhile, the dog-crow rested. When at last he decided to again work, he chose to start off with something that would strengthen him. With a wince of focus, he tried to magickally manifest into being one of those sparkling, strange fruits he'd found in Polaris.

His face again screwed up into a squint of concentration, and this time he held his clawed 'hands' slightly apart and facing one another--which had the somewhat comical result of forcing his arm-feathers to stick out at a chaotically bushy angle from his sides. Ear-tufts pricked, he muttered to himself again.

"Come on, banana... come on..."

Again nothing happened, and the hybrid let out a pitiful whine. He was hungry. This was hard.

He lowered his forelimbs and looked around. He still appeared to be alone, the cave quiet, and so he skittered forward and leapt up, clumsy beats of his arm-wings bringing him onto the top of the stone wall to his left. There he scrambled up with scratching claws, and sat back to look around.

"Oh... wow," he said quietly. He could see, from here, over a valley of bones--stretching far into the distance, until it reached the distant, dim fortresses on the far end. The hybrid turned, and faced the other way--there he could see the west wall, and, to one side, the upward slope that led to the exit tunnel. It was all beautiful... and intimidating. He'd never seen anything so dry and lifeless, yet so rife with the proof of prior existence.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver just sat, for awhile, gathering himself and his strength while looking over Canis. Nothing stirred; he saw no sign of movement, heard no calls or cries, scented no creatures. The cave was vast, but more than that it seemed less inhabited than the others.

Maybe he could change that.

Let me get back to it, he thought to himself. He had a forest to grow; he had life to bring. Again he concentrated, and again he focused on simply calling a banana into being: something that would give him the energy to carry on for a few hours. He didn't do fantastically with fruit, but these seemed magical in some way, and more nourishing than when he tried to eat apples and so forth in Eridanus. And they made him less sick, too. They--

A banana burst out of thin air, then fell neatly onto the ledge in front of him, bouncing once. He grinned cheerfully, scrambling over to slit the thick peel with his claws; he then pulled the fruit from its shell in little pieces. After a moment's thought, he left half on the peel, laying where it was up on the high, bare ledge; he could come back to that later. For now he just stuffed half into his maw and happily chewed and swallowed, and then--after a wingbeat-glide back down--he licked the residue off his claws.

The sweet smell lingered behind him, and around him, as he made his way back to the pools of water--determined to make another attempt.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

The little bird-dog sniffed at the water.

It was metallic, stale; something about it smelled... musty. Stuffy. Unhealthy.

He sneezed.

"Yeah-... You need to be cleansed," he informed the water sombrely. A long-clawed, long-fingered forelimb extended into the water and sifted upward, the brown grit visible floating down through the tainted liquid.

He sighed through his nose, and closed pale blue eyes. A long moment of focus, and he tried to gather up his magicka for another attempt at purification. He felt it coiling within him, threading out into the pool... felt it extending out into the water.

Oliver opened his eyes, and--"Why are you BLACK?!" he cried, tone full of betrayal.

The water was coiling with dark clouds that seemed to thicken and coalesce, as if threatening to coagulate the liquid into drying mud. The hybrid cried out in alarm, rapidly trying to scoop the black out, but his finger-claws just passed through.

Oops.
{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver sat back, and sneezed, grief hitting him.

I'm killing it! I'm trying to fix it but I'm KILLING it! His gut twisted in anguish, but before he could act, he felt illness flickering through him. Eyes widening, he stared at the blackened water.

"Did-... you make me sick?" he asked in a hushed tone.

The water, perhaps unsurprisingly, did not respond.

Oliver flattened back his ear tufts, his entire body cringing low to the ground with miserable defeat, as he turned his attention to his "hands." They were stained black by the whatever-it-was, and he felt his chest tighten with whatever it was that the water held. Fear spiked through him, and he focused on his magicka again, this time murmuring as he did so. "No, no, no, please no, please... please. Please work..."

His eyes squeezed shut, and he sat trembling for a moment, clutching his wing-arm with the other limb, concentrating on getting rid of this-... This thing, that was trying to take hold of him.

A moment later, relief flooded through him--first physical, as the magicka washed the sickness away; and just after, emotional, as he realized that it had worked. A whimper escaped him, and he sat back, shaking a little as he regained himself.

He'd have to be more careful. Much more careful. If anything happens to me out here... I'm alone. No one will find me. I have to take care of myself, and not-... make mistakes like that. Not again.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver knew that he would have to fix this--to cleanse the water before the whatever-it-was tainted the plants. He stared with a frightened, disapproving frown, and did his best to gather himself mentally before actually trying to gather up his magicka.

The last thing he wanted was for this to backfire... again.

Trembling a little, he closed his blue eyes and hesitantly extended out his clawed forelimbs to splay a few inches over the water once again. His magicka shimmered up within him, and he directed it outward.

This time, finally, he could see the black quickly fade. Whatever it was--spores, bacteria, he wasn't sure--seemed to coil back in on itself, to retreat and finally to vanish completely. The brown tinge to the pool, too, faded. In moments, the water looked brightly clear, a shimmering reflection dancing over the surface.

Oliver peered in. He sniffed, and then--cautious--sampled a lap or two.

His eyes widened. It was good. No, more than that; it was great! It had to be the cleanest water Canis had seen in decades. Proud of himself, he smiled over to his plants.

"Did you see that?" he asked them cheerfully. "Now you'll have clean water!"

Of course, he still had the rest of the pools to do.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver paced over, away from the magickally effervescent waters and back to the little garden.

He crouched over the plants, concentrating. He had to grow them larger--bigger, healthier. Sprouts might not survive; seeds might never sprout. But if he could get them flowering, they might just stand a chance.

Slowly, as he held his claws out over them--deep in concentration, and trying to ignore his weariness--they began to twitch. Some twisted higher; some spread leaves outward. A few bloomed small flowers, even, or wheaty tops with seeds glistening hard and shiny.

But none grew very large, and Oliver knew without being told that his magic was fairly drained. Still; they had a better chance now then they'd had before. He could rest--sleep--the half-eaten banana atop the wall forgotten. And when he woke, refreshed--with fresh water, no less!--he could continue his work.

"At some point, I gotta go get more of you," he told the plants with a tired, quiet cheer. "Maybe I can make a whole forest outta this place." The hybrid glanced around, picturing it: a cave not only of bones and death, but flourishing with greenery and life.

Maybe he could even lure some birds in, and some deer or something, and make it just as living as Eridanus, or Cetus--... but.

Well.

With bones.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver left Canis, for a time.

When he returned, it was with armfuls of seeds, and clusters of plants, carefully plucked from Eridanus. There were ferns, there, and saplings. He'd need to make a few of these trips, but for now he started the work of carefully spreading the garden's reaches--of thickening it, some. He spent a few hours rummaging around Canis, bringing back as much dirt as he could find and carry; he brought back some of the charred bones, too, crunching them as best he could in his teeth and leaving the black bits scattered around. He wasn't sure bones were fertilizer, but it seemed that they might be?

He also pooped in the garden, hoping that this would also help. This, he buried in the dirt, content that maybe he was helping.

A few scratches of his wing-claws in the new soil, a burying of the seeds and a planting of the saplings, and he sat back to admire his handiwork.

It wasn't a forest; it wasn't a jungle. It wasn't even a garden, really, yet. But it was a cluster of greenery, most of it healthy enough in appearance, and with a nice, clean pool of water just off-center.

It was, he thought, an oasis.

Oliver paced to the middle and stood on all fours, lowering his head and closing his eyes. He focused to spread his magicka all around him, to gift what life he could channel, and share, with the growth in all directions. His intention was to help it to flourish: to bloom it, to grow it, so that it could take root, strengthen, and spread.

When he at last dared crack open one of his pale blue eyes, he saw the plants tugging, twitching and moving skyward. Some of the saplings were now taller than he; most of the flowering plants had grown thick and bushy, sprouting buds that were almost ready to open into flowers. The ferns were larger, and unfurling. Had Oliver concentrated this on one of the plants, he realized it would be fully-grown. As it was, spread among them all, his magic had given them just enough size that perhaps they could thrive on their own.

"Oh, good. Thank you," he added--as if thanking the garden for growing for him.

Oliver had moved to one of the other, smaller stagnant pools. All around him new life was sprouting, some with buds, some unfurling new limbs. He felt content--at peace, and happy with his progress. This was good!

He was helping!

Quiet, he crouched beside the water; hopefully, he splayed taloned forelimbs out over it. He began to murmur, almost as if in prayer.

"Okay, water," he began softly. He was preparing himself for the attempt, as much as actually addressing the water itself. "I'm gonna try and clean you. Please don't--um. Turn black. Or make me sick. I just want you to be clean, so you can live with the plants, here? So gembound can drink here and we can. Not. ...Die," he finished, a little lamely. He was almost ashamed that he had to tell the water this. He knew it didn't understand him, after all.

Probably.

He at first squeezed pale blue eyes shut--then remembered that the last time he'd done this with closed eyes, he'd simply made it worse. He settled for opening one, keeping the other shut, and focusing like that.

Unfortunately, all that "keeping one eye open" did was to show him--plainly and clearly--the swirling darkness that began to rise within. With a yelp he jerked back, cutting the connection, and staring with a frown--but the black continued to coil up, smelling of open sewage and of illness and death.

He almost swore in fear, but then had a thought.

Which, of course, he voiced.

"Wait, is this--how it works? Do I have to pull out all the bad stuff and then do things again to get rid of it? I guess I can't just leave it in there, right?" He hesitated, then, uncertain. It seemed logical enough, but the grit coiling up like sinister smoke through the pool--well, he couldn't help but be a little worried.

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}