ORIGIN

Polaris was littered with crystals: each glinting in the Spire's light, myriad colors, and shapes, and sizes. Each was different, and in their difference they gained a sort of sameness, a mass of hues and structures jutting out here and there, or lying, veinlike, along the ground.

One of these was not simply an outcropping, but bore within it new life, and this one--a stone called clinohumite--glittered like fire. A soft crack echoed, splinters falling away and spinning, catching the light and flaring it back outward in bright flashes of amber and gold. Like little flames made stone, they struck the rock and clattered very quietly away.

As a landslide gathers force before crashing through whatever dams would hold it, so the stone at last gave way, a small, pale mass tumbling forth onto the rock.

For a moment it lay there, eyes closed, limp: a wolf cub with oversized paws and closed eyes, its fur dusky with a darker mask, lighter streaks through its fur that promised it would pale with age.

Then these eyes opened: twin flames, glowing faintly with their own light, bright and clear. The pup's mind, however, was hardly so clear--confusion was obvious in his face as he lifted his too-big head, looking first this way and then that.

A bewildered sound escaped him, a sort of whimper, the kind of sound that had to have a question mark on its tail end despite not being formed of letters. Up the pup stumbled, falling first, then gaining his feet. At his chest glimmered another chunk of the same stone he'd fallen out of: a rounded piece, large and smooth, and shining.

He shook himself, and then fell over, youthful clumsiness overtaking him.

The wolf cub turned, stumbling over his own oversized paws, peering over toward the bark. Tiny ears pricked up, and his flaming eyes studied the source of the sound. He was confused--maybe a little alarmed--and curious; what was that? Instinct told him it was nothing to be feared, but experience (or lack thereof) left him clueless.

He spotted it, at last--dark in the dim light, the Spire's blue glow shimmering beautifully over pitch-dark fur. He could see the faint wagging of the tail, and the bright moonglow eyes standing out like small, twin stars. Not that Fireheart had a clue what "stars" were, really.

He took two steps forward to meet the stranger's approach, hesitant with his own uncertainty on this whole "walking" thing, and indeed he stumbled a little. But his own tail came up, and wagged a little, hesitant--his ashen-gray puppy coat much easier to spot.

Base instinct and memory without source had him remembering words--words he'd never heard, before, but words his brain struggled to form meaning from, nonetheless.

"H--... i," he managed, and then--"Hello." He looked at Kazgut, and then tried to twist his own head this way and that to study himself--and from what little he could see, they were similar. Different shades of gray and black, yes, but big paws, and four legs, and long and pointed snouts.

Fireheart decided that they were the same, then; that there was nothing to fear from this other pup that looked like him. This must be the way of the world: brother cubs, and sisters, finding one another in the dark.

With his eyes squinted in a friendly manner, blinking here and there--and with wagging tail--he toddled forward to sniff at Kazgut's nose, and at his fur. He wanted to meet this stranger, to get to know him; surely they'd be friends?

Various half-understood instincts flickered through him. The instinct to try and dominate--in a playful, puppy way, at least. And the urge to play. He hesitated, at both; he was still inhaling the scent of the black pup, getting to know him. Bounding about and wrestling was all well and good--learning how to play, how to fight--but there was something more interesting here that gave him pause.

Words. He listened, brow furrowing, ears pricking up, and remained quite still as he thought them over. Trapped? This brought with it unpleasant sensations, like darkness and confinement, and panic--though all were very distant and rather theoretical. Fire, though--that one brought a flood of pleasure. Tenacity, joyous ferocity; strength, and courage, and the light of life in his eyes. His tail wagged again, without him realizing it, and he licked his lips with a backward flick of his ears, his simple joy at the word clear.

"Fire," he agreed, knowing that this was some part of him.

He felt the flicker of magicka, and he tried to put it to use--to embrace it, and the "fire" that he felt sure lay beyond it. But nothing came, and he simply stood, bewildered by this as he was by all that was new.

"I am fire," he decided, his voice soft. "Fire-heart." He then set back to nosing over Kazgut, pondering. If he himself was fire, then what was the black pup?

"-Shadow?" he asked, wagering a guess. Kazgut looked like the dark spaces that nestled between the rocks, where the light of the Spire couldn't reach. The silver glow of his eyes, though, reminded Fireheart of a celestial glow he couldn't possibly know. This stifled idea--that of starlight, and of moons--fled past his thoughts before he could get a grip on them. But he knew that, somewhere, there were lights in the darkness; and that Kazgut reminded him, too, of those.

Kazgut. So that was the other pup's name, then?

Fireheart considered, peering first at Kazgut--with an easygoing, friendly expression--and then around at the cave as a whole. Everything was new to him--the world, the Spire, even he himself. But a few ideas were forming: half-forgotten, never-known concepts and these, in turn, led to questions.

He turned back to the black pup. "Friends?" he asked, and then--pondering possibilities--"Brothers?" He paused, head tilting, and with a doggy smile he let his tongue loll out. He liked this other pup--he had no reason not to; it was friendly, or seemed to be, and it was like him. "Where--is this?" he asked, looking around, and then added--"I follow?"

Perhaps Kazgut knew more about this world--but either way, Fireheart had no thoughts of parting ways. They were two living beings, similar, together in a strange world--surely they would stick together?

Fireheart was gladdened, somehow, by this declaration that he was to follow--warmed by the sudden and unexpected find of family. Vyette, whoever this was--he found himself curious, but taking studious note of Kazgut's words. "Sister," he rolled the word thoughtfully on his tongue.

He found himself wondering, too, about these many caves. Cold, wet; what did these words mean? He could imagine them, in the abstract, but he'd had no knowledge of them so far. Were some less bright, then? Were they, perhaps, different colors?

Fireheart glanced around, trying to imagine other caves; but without knowledge, his mind painted only the broadest strokes in splashes of strange color and light, in rocks that were larger, or smaller, or more or less numerous; and he imagined crystals, too, maybe upside-down! Wouldn't that be something-?

He hastened to follow Kazgut, regardless--he was more than happy to follow this stranger, this new friend, and see where life might take them.