ORIGIN

"Yes, you may glide soon," Giggle agreed.

The hyena lifted a hind leg to scratch absently behind her ear as she considered how best to summarize efficient killing. For a brief, dark and rather sinister moment she was tempted to tell Aure to ask Eythan, and to add that he was very good at killing. As soon as the thought hit her she dismissed it with utter disgust at herself. That was horrible, and mean, and certainly not fair at all to either Eythan or the child, or to the family she was trying to build. Not to mention, to Azazel's memory.

So why had she thought it?

Perhaps, she realized grimly, I'm just still that furious with him. Perhaps I don't think he's yet been punished enough. But would there ever be an "enough?" And anyway, of course he hadn't. Her chosen "sentence" for Eythan had been to help raise Aure, to protect and to guide him. And Aure was still just a child.

Shoving her errant thoughts away, the hyena relaxed back onto her haunches. She assumed, without thinking, that since the hatchling was speaking of hunting and killing that he must grasp--perhaps with that unknowable Gembound instinct that seemed to impart apparently random knowledge to each new youth--what it basically entailed.

She set herself, then, not to explaining what death was, but rather how best to deal it.

"You have to be quick. Don't hold back. Strike at the spine--that's the backbone, along here," Giggle clarified, leaning over to run her nose briefly along Aure's vertebrae. "Or get the head. Bite it hard, shake them hard, break their head or their back-bones and then they're dead. If you're accurate, and quick, it's near-instant. Less cruel and also less chance of you getting bitten!"

________________

ROLL THE BONES

Giggle was somewhat surprised--though certainly not displeased--by the revelation that the little one was already a competent hunter. Clearly, the instincts ran strong in him; it wasn't her instruction alone that had his antics running the gamut of diving bird to stalking hyena. Some faint part of her worried that it might be too much, even; Azazel had always seemed kind, but at least one of his children had turned out to be a murderer.

That part of her, though, was small and barely-noticed. Her mind was more on Aure's technique, on his leap and on his enthusiasm, and she did all that she could to encourage it. This meant, for now, a great deal of praise--and involvement.

"Excellent, very good!" she agreed. Then, she "dove" in beside him, ever-so-gently "tearing" at the carcass herself. It was a show of solidarity, of agreement and of approval. She joined him in his game, encouraging his behavior and giving a few little mock-growls to further amp up the excitement.

"When they're moving, be just as quick! And just as fierce. You will be a powerful hunter, one day!"

________________

ROLL THE BONES

Giggle took the piece gently nonetheless, as if she truly valued nothing more--and in a sense, this was right. A kindly-given gift from the healthy, bright-eyed child of her best friend. And my own son, she reminded herself, chiding herself.

Somehow, she still considered herself merely a custodian, a caretaker, rather than Aure's true parent. She'd have to think, later, about why that was. Meanwhile, there was a baby to cater to.

"Oooh, thank you. That's so good," she praised, after of course gulping the piece down. Indulgently she padded back down a few paces into the den, and pulled out a somewhat older ribcage--a tiny rat's, of course--and tossed it to skid over the rock near Aure.

"Anything you want to ask me, Aure?" she asked, in an easygoing manner. A moment later she was flopping down by his side, relaxed and kind-eyed, attentively patient. "Anything you want to talk about, or do?"

________________

ROLL THE BONES

Was it possible to inwardly flinch? To recoil from a question, with no outward sign--or perhaps only the faintest twitch of the muscles of the face? She could certainly feel pain without showing it, and surprise, so-... perhaps.

Giggle exhaled softly, for a moment kneading the ground with her front paws in a thoughtful manner, yet almost catlike. One two; one two. Then she stopped, lifting her head to peer out at Canis as she gathered her words.

What was Azazel like..? How can I put this into words, and do him any sort of justice? She didn't hold him up in a pedestal--and that was, perhaps, part of the problem. Some of her memories of him were sad and bitter, and she didn't want Aure to hear those. She wanted him to know that his father hadn't been perfect, of course--she never wanted him straining for perfection, because nobody hatched had ever been perfect, and dwelling on failures was what had killed Azazel himself. Yet she didn't want Aure to think that he'd been hated, either, not by any means.

Finally, at length, she cleared her throat to speak, trying for honesty, but tempered with gentle affection.

"Azazel," she began quietly, "was a bird. Omen is a bird, too--feathers, two legs, a beak. You are half-bird. Azazel was pale-feathered, mostly--you have his eyes, red and white. His feathers were stained, like the way some stones rust, I think from blood from his meals... a sort of... orange-red. His wings were darker, brown." Giggle had no way of knowing that Azazel had, like Aure, likely been hatched a dark chocolate tone--or that Aure's colors might later change. In fact, she glanced at him now, wondering why a creature half-lammergeier and half-hyena was not a rusty orange ticked with darker browns, but she pushed the thought from her mind.

"Azazel was very fair, and reasonable. He was patient, and kind, and he wanted to help all of those that he could, by leading them. He organized defenses when we were in danger, and he struck out to find other Gembound to ally with when we were threatened. He did his best to listen to advice, but he made his own decisions."

A pause, the hyena scuffing one paw in the dirt for a moment, again, pushing away the hollow pain that always came with these bittersweet memories. She then looked to Aure, kindly. "He was the first Gembound I met upon hatching, and he made sure that I had food to eat, that I could find my own. We stayed friends for a very long time. I gave him advice as much as I could; he listened, and he gave us protection." In retrospect, she was making Bonebound sound like a true, massive, and very active kingdom, with Azazel as a true king--but really they'd been a ragtag band that had never gone to war, never truly been attacked. But the threats had been there, and he had acted to prepare.

"We were called the Bonebound. We were never all that large; and we never went to war. But the threat was there, and he did act, just in case," Giggle continued, echoing her thoughts. She wanted this slow, deliberate reflection of Azazel to his son--the first--to be accurate and comprehensive, without swamping it with details that the little one might not grasp.

"He often worried about failing us. He thought he'd failed many times, and blamed himself for many things that were not his fault. If only he'd have spoken to us, instead of keeping it to himself--we could have told him that he was a friend, and an excellent king. But he loved us all too much, I think, not to take it to heart, not to think everything was his own fault. That was his downfall. It is something we must all try to avoid."

A pause, a gentle nuzzle to the top of Aure's head, and the old hyena finished with--"He was a good friend, and he had a good sense of humor. I think he'd have liked you very much." She smiled, mostly with her eyes--because it was true. She could see Azazel loving this one, cuddling with him, telling him of the world.

I should try and teach him the things that Azazel would, in his stead, she realized.

Things like cracking bones. Things like yelling--loudly. Eythan would have to teach him flight, of course, but-...

Giggle's thoughts trailed off, and she sighed through her nose, then leaned over again to nuzzle the child's feathers.

________________

ROLL THE BONES

Giggle grimaced just a little, only faintly, as Aure asked of Eythan. Damn, but he'd already put two and two together, and soon enough, he'd ask how Azazel had died, she knew that. What would she say, then..?

"Yes; Azazel brought life to a couple of stones, stones of his fallen friends. One is no longer, the other became Eythan--that's how it works. We breathe life--magic--into the stones of the fallen and they create new life, in combination of both parents. I breathed life into Azazel's stone, and you were created." She offered a gentle, loving nuzzle.

At the comment of her being like her long-dead friend, she smiled faintly. High praise, indeed. And then he was asking a question.

"Bonebound is--as an organization--gone. But I, Eythan, my children--we are still Bonebound, at heart. When you grow a little," she added, wording things carefully, "you have the right to call us Bonebound again if you wish, and perhaps to make decisions for us as your father did." Faint guilt washed over her. Was she not just using this child..? Why was she not guiding them herself, instead of waiting to bestow it on someone far too young to understand a damn thing, and without the experience to do it? It was too much to lay on the shoulders of one so small. "But that will be up to you, and you will have the guidance and support of the rest of us, if you choose to. It's your birthright."

Oh, there it was. How had he died--and so much sooner than she'd thought. She looked sadly at Aure. Part of her knew it was wrong to tell him before Eythan was here, but another part knew that leaving it until later had a good chance to destroy their relationship completely. She'd tell him, then--but gloss over it, and in a way a child could perhaps accept. Giggle began to speak, carefully and plainly.

"He was gone long before you, yes. He and Eythan argued. Eythan lashed out, upset, and Azazel was hurt, and let himself fall from a height, instead of flying. He was sad, as I told you, remember?" This was said very gently. "So he blamed himself for things, and let himself fall. We all felt terribly, and we all miss him, not just you," she assured Aure, with another nudge.

"I found his stone only a cycle ago, and brought you into the world. Eythan can maybe talk to you more about what happened when you're a little older, but don't blame him. He loves you very much, and feels terribly about what happened." I hope. This grim thought, on its tail, was chastised away by the memories of her direct mind-link with Eythan, with the strong feelings of remorse and grief that had run through the hybrid. "We are all family, and though no family is perfect, we look out for one another. Your father would want that very much."

She made a mental note to apologize to Eythan for telling Aure now, but she reminded herself that Aure had asked, and hiding this from him would have only broken his trust in his brother once it was later revealed.

But she could sense argument from it already--hurt and betrayal on Eythan's part. She only hoped that Aure took this news in stride, as she'd presented it.

Her memory, though, of her mind-link with Eythan--and a desire to perhaps distract Aure--brought her a new idea. "I'll show you Azazel, with my magic," she offered--partially by way of warning. Maybe she could distract him with this--and, too, offer him a glimpse of his father's true self.

It took several moments, Giggle's mind struggling to focus past the sway of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She managed to bring it onto focus, though--linking her mind to Aure's, and sharing with him a brief tide of imagery and emotions.

She chose a random conversation she had had with Azazel--a warm talk of allies and friends, one of the talks they'd had by her bone pit. It was one of those half-advisor, half-friend conversations where she'd offered advice as both Bonebound and friend. One of those where he'd listened, and they'd spoken, and talked warmly, sharing memories and humor. He was showing his careful consideration of all she said, offering his own advice. Too, his image was clearly visible--his chocolate wings, his eyes and face so similar to Aure's own.

Before the link was lost, she shared one more image: that of Azazel soaring in Canis, distant and graceful, like some otherworldly being not at all among them--yet watching over them. The symbolism was not at first intentional, but Giggle felt that thought herself, and shared it almost accidentally over the link.

Then the image slowly faded, and with it, Azazel.

________________

ROLL THE BONES