ORIGIN

She was where she always was, where she lived, where the point of the roof of Canis swept down to nearly touch the floor of the cave. Quite near here, with only about fifteen feet of roof clearance, there was a flat circular area where no plants grew. Instead, Giggle had found, and added to, and collected, a large pile of bones. Some were dry and white; others were yellow and smelled faintly of carrion. The small ferns that grew in Canis ringed the outer edges, as if they dared not cross into the bonepile's territory.

A tall, bluntly-pointed boulder swept out overhead, so that if one were to climb up the gentle slope at the back, they could stand at the tip and look down on the bones. If one were to look down now, they would see Giggle the spotted hyena--coat still fluffy-ragged with youth, and streaked here and there with gore, dirt and fungus--gently lifting stray bones in her powerful jaws and depositing them back in the circle.

It wasn't clear what she was doing, aside from "organizing bones into a pile," but she seemed almost reverently absorbed in her task, chortling softly now and again as if rather pleased with all of this.

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Roll the bones.

Giggle leapt back as the gentle rush of wings reached her ears, turning sharply to stare about with suspicious dark eyes. Her memories of Rafael taunting and attacking her here still brought a flood of frustrated rage, and fear, when she heard the beat of wings; but the gentle click of talons was far more quiet, made by something far lighter.

The hyena relaxed as she spotted Aza'zel, letting out a nervous string of loud cackling in her relief.

"Aza'zel," she greeted him, voice deep, raspy but warm as she stepped back into the light to approach him. She offered a brief and light lick on his head, a greeting that she gave in both friendliness and, well, teasing--just a little. He'd hated it, at first, but since then he'd accepted it with dry humor, or so she liked to think. Well, he'd accepted it once.

Beneath the harsh light of the orbs it was clear that what had seemed to be youthful fluff was just a new outcropping of rather spiky fungus; the hyena was probably trying out something new. Other than that she was the same clotted, rancid mess she always was, and as she plopped down on her haunches before her King and master, she was as familiar in appearance as in scent.

But what brings him here? He's usually so busy elsewhere.

With a tilt of her head, the spotted hyena addressed her concerns at once, her almost masculine voice still tinged with the hint of a giggle.

"Not to say you never visit, but you never visit. I'm not complaining, but is everything all right?" She tilted her head, a little, eyeing Aza'zel. She felt both warmed by his presence, and a little worried by what might have driven him to her. He seemed happy enough, but she wanted to be sure.

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Roll the bones.

Giggle listened, her smile and warmth vanishing, solemnity taking over.

This isn't a time for frivolity, then. It's a time for speech. For planning. A dragon? I know only one. Are there others?

Outwardly, though, though her mind was racing, the hyena seemed to be frozen in thought. She slowly tilted her head, still sitting quietly before Aza'zel. She asked only one question.

"Can you describe the dragon, please?"

She didn't sound afraid--if anything, she sounded slightly curious, and confident, the wheels in her head turning as if she were already trying to formulate a plan, to gather facts. If it were Baratheon--if it were the pink-and-white fuzzball, well, they were in trouble. She had to ask his size, if it was him--chances are, he had grown. But she already had an idea of precisely what to do, if it were him.

She remembered what she'd told him, once upon a time. That he'd find a family. That he would rise up, each time he fell, stronger than before. That he'd find someone, a light in his life, to guide him out of his mindless bloodlust.

If it were truly Baratheon that Aza'zel were referring to, then she had only one thought in mind--though she'd have to consult the bones, first, and of course she wished to know what her leader already had in mind. But she had an idea--the question is, was it a known evil, the cottony fluff dragon--or something else, altogether?

Cunning, dark eyes fixed on her King, she awaited his response, awaited the words that would set a war in motion.

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Roll the bones.

Giggle shook her head at once, abruptly standing and padding toward her bone pile. Her responses came calculating and swift, her practical mind in overdrive. To compensate for her brisk fashion, she used the proper words, the fawning ones, the ones that told Aza'zel that she still knew that he was the boss.

"Bone King, he is right--he won't be able to stop himself. His name is Baratheon, and I know quite a bit about him, and why he'll be out of control. I've helped him work on it, and I have an idea. Maybe more than one. If you have a plan tell me, but I have information I need to give you, that may help. But first, I need you to tell me--please--how he is being held captive. And how big he is," she added, her voice a husky growl, deep in thought. She padded to the edge of her bones, brow furrowed around the faintly-visible gem there, and she began to kick bones into the pile in a seemingly haphazard fashion, awaiting Aza'zel's response as she watched how they clattered and fell.

Clearly, Aza'zel's advisor wasted no time in getting to the point of things.

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Roll the bones.

"Eight feet tall..." Giggle murmured. He'd gotten huge, then... This might be difficult. And dangerous.

"When he smells blood, he loses all control. He turns completely maddened and ferocious, completely mindless to all else. It troubles him greatly," Giggle added, glancing at Aza'zel. Then she continued, looking back down at the bones.

"I can offer two possible options. First, if you can find out when they intend to provoke him, you can feed him in advance. Fully-fed he'll hardly go into a rage, if at all. He is lazy, half-asleep, instead. But it'd mean being able to sneak food to him, which might be dangerous." She took a breath, frowning down at the bones as best a hyena can, and then continued.

"I'd like to get him out, Aza'zel. Bone King. Safely. He's a good-hearted creature and I hate to think of him suffering. But... if it becomes necessary, you can take another option. Unless he's restrained somehow, you could bring something that smells of blood--a small, fresh kill--and drop it before him as he sleeps. It has to be as he sleeps," she warned solemnly, "because the instant he wakes up from the smell he will try to kill anything he can find. Anything. That includes his captors," she added softly, "and that might cost him whatever they're holding over his head to keep him passive."

Giggle turned to peer at Aza'zel, then.

"Bone King, the best war would be won before it is fought. Sabotage them, free their weapon before it begins, feed their weapon and get him on our side without their knowing. But I have to ask--why war? And why against us? The Bonebound only live in Canis, we do not go starting fights, I know this. Why do they want to attack us?"

She nodded to the bones. "Remember that the bones warned you not to take the first agreement offered you, Aza'zel. But now they speak of struggle, of conflict--and of our victory. We will find a light to guide us, a clear sight, good triumphing over wickedness--but what matters lies beyond that. Beyond it, I see new partnerships. New... alliances, perhaps. Now is the time to gather our friends, or to make new ones. Bone King."

Giggle looked back toward the pit's center, where the tangle of bones in the middle spoke of the paths of the Bonebound remaining linked with new friends, new comrades, in the future.

Perhaps a war, if so easily won and with such positive outcome--regardless of its reasons--wouldn't necessarily be such a bad thing.

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Roll the bones.