A few days had passed since her awakening, mostly spent under Fireheart's watchful eye and curled up in warm fur. Two things preoccupied the hatchling's mind: the concept of death that her guardian had brought to her attention, and the bone-song. They whispered such sweet things in her ear, often lending her to longing glances into the dark of Canis, deafening her ear to Fireheart's tender caution. She did not mention the song after that first day, but more than likely, Fireheart knew what brought her into those ominous quiet spells.
Today was a day unlike the others, however; she had waited until her mindful guardian slept, and she slowly and carefully crept away, one cautious step at a time. The song was calling to her, speaking of such treasures in the dark, of secrets that even Fireheart did not know. And to be sure-! Fireheart had made no move to show her to others, to expand her realm beyond their words of wisdom, and she longed to see what the bones were sweetly promising to her.
She had not escaped Fireheart's purview before she cast her first misstep. A sudden outcry of the song startled her - a warning? an echo of their fear? - and she stumbled, sending a small bone-pile clattering. They cried in unison, this small mountain, hissing at the disturbance she had caused all around her ears, and, fearing that her guardian would chase after her and end her exploration before it'd even begun, she scrambled away and further into the dark, losing sight of her gentle guardian before long.
But now all she had was the song that surrounded her, and it was not a kind sound they made. Fear crept under her skin, and the hatchling was alone.
When I speak.
When I whisper.
@Fireheart
He had mostly just tagged along--following the fledgling, answering her questions, guiding her if she was hungry or thirsty. He certainly hadn't made much effort to expose her to the world at large; he had simply served as a sort of friendly shadow.
He wasn't sure what woke him up--his mind didn't quite register Melpomene's cry--but his head snapped up, sleep clearing with that groggy blur that left him looking about and blinking. It was only after a moment that he registered her warmth missing from her now-accustomed spot between his forelegs, against his chest--the narrow, gem-shielded spot was empty.
Fireheart stood abruptly, slender limbs propelling him up, and he blinked the sleep away as he looked sharply around.
Her scent was musty, but it was vaguely everywhere--if she was hurt, he had to work fast.
The white wolf turned a circle, and then set his nose to the ground, fear of what might be propelling him into action.