ORIGIN

The rain was still pouring down, periodically. Now was no exception; the wet slicked her coat through, having long since finished tracking dark streaks down through her thorns and graduated on to drenching her entirely. She ignored this; it was cold, but so long as she kept on eating, and stayed heavy enough, it didn't bother her all that much. Her father was likely somewhere close by, her sister perhaps as well, but for now she was off alone and it was mealtime.

Slowly, shuffling her bulky calflike body through the undergrowth, she set about nibbling at the brush between the ferns with her rhino-like lips. Water ran into her nostrils; she sneezed, and then snorted. Her pale form pushed through some tangles of leaves and she sank a little in the mossy muck, before pulling herself (with a little struggle, for a moment) onto higher ground.

Fruits. Vegetables. Thorns, weeds, flowers. Leaves, branches, roots and stems. She ate it all, devouring a browsing path through the jungle without a care in the world. Her ears flicked the water away, but she was oblivious to all else.

Good food, she thought to herself firmly, for the seventh time in an hour. Being so young, her language was still not where it needed to be; rare was the Gembound who was hatched with full command over their words, and she was no exception. It didn't help that her father wasn't the most eloquent of creatures. So, "good food" was about as complex a thought that she could manage, for the time being.

But what else was there? What else could be needed? She was content: full, if wet; the rain she could do without. But her family was close by, safe--probably--and she had plenty to eat and drink and, once she needed it, there was shelter to be had.

Finding some berries dotted over a bush she paused, and began to eat the branches--leaves, twigs, fruits, and all. Yup; life, at least here, was good.

The voice that rang out behind her was arrogant, to say the least, and its bitchy pride immediately left a sour taste in Ivory's mouth. She turned, slowly blinking ghostlight-green eyes.

The thing looked younger than her--but for some reason, it could speak clearly and eloquently. She found that weird, but found it more frustrating that she could not--and knew she could not--respond in kind.

"Didn't ask you," she answered, bluntly, tossing her head with her horns vaguely in this 'Clawvale' direction. Why did she have two names? Nobody needed two names. That was ridiculous. "Don't care."

Ivory's eyes briefly travelled over the stranger. It was small--or rather, young; it looked like it might grow to be about half her own size, or perhaps a little more. Even that would be quite large, though--much larger than her father, or her sibling. It was pretty, too. Streaks of gold, as her supposed title claimed, and tawny, with deep charcoal markings.

Ivory, however--so she immediately decided, with an irritated grudge--was still prettier.

She deliberately turned away, going back to her browsing and ignoring the rude stranger. If she wants to talk, she told herself, then she can learn not to be a jerk, first.

Whoever this stranger was, she sure had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way.

Or Ivory, at least.

It wasn't up to some deformed orange moron to decide if she was brave, or whatever. As the stranger took a charge at her brush, she felt a brief spate of childish rage overcome her, and aimed a powerful headbutt for Zoya's flank, stubby nose-horns first and all her muscle behind it. Her intention was to send the smaller child sprawling into the underbrush.

"Didn't ASK you," she growled again as she did so. "So SHUT UP, or I'll... hurt you!" her head lowered again, snorts exhaling sharply from her nostrils, her tail lashing catlike behind her.

Ivory was turning, shuffling to face the smaller orange thing, when it finally made its way to its feet and swung its head for her hide. She staggered heavily, nearly knocked off her feet--and despite her thick hide, the strike had hurt. The horns--already sharp, unlike her own child's horns--had punctured her side, and blood now streaked her white pelt. The ribs were bruised, not broken, and the horns hadn't pierced through to organs--Zoya was just too small for that. But the puncture wounds were there, the scent of blood now strong in the air.

The pain enraged her further.

Who the hell was this jerk?! She'd turned up, outta nowhere, talking down to her and now had the gall to pretend to teach HER a lesson!?

"LEAVE ME ALONE," she bellowed, as loudly as she could, before lumbering back into another charge. She lowered her head, aiming to hook her blunt snout-horn up beneath the stranger's chest or belly (whichever wound up facing her, at the time), to fling her up and over.

The thing couldn't have been half her size; surely this would be easy? And then she could get back to eating, without rude--whatever-this-wases--interrupting her.

To turn up, insult, provoke, and then attack without reason--and then bloody up her side, and now she was trying to talk to Ivory?

Ivory heard none of it. She'd missed her last strike, hitting the bushes ineffectually, but this only frustrated her further, spiking her fury higher. She was already wheeling, charging forward, aiming her head in a strike for the other Gembound's mouth mid-sentence. She didn't bother talking, herself; she saw rage-filled red, the roar of her own pulse in her ears, righteous anger driving her.

Maybe she could break this thing's face. Snap its jaw. Crush its teeth. Shut it up. Maybe she'd teach it a lesson about being an asshole to strangers.

She struck only foliage again, and let out a brief bellow of rage, turning and shaking free of the vines and clearly preparing for yet another charge. Blood slicked the leaves behind her, but it didn't seem to have affected her, as yet.