ORIGIN

It had taken him a while, but he had grown accustomed to the scent of the den. The addition of his mother's mushroom garden had not helped in the slightest, but for the first time in his (short) life, he didn't mind the smell, which had often whacked him in the face as he entered.

This time, it did not. He did not flinch, wince, or even gag at the smell as he entered - a rat hanging from his jaws which still flailed in a desperate attempt to cling to life and fur smeared scarlet - his paws moved almost robotic-like, avoiding the mushrooms, gunk and gore strewn across the cave floor. He'd taken the time to memorize the ground in fear of getting yelled at for stepping on something.

Or worse.

He found his way to his spot and finally crunched down on the flailing rat to kill it. He'd spent the day hunting and, although mostly unsucessful, he had caught three. Two of them, he left by his mother's beloved bone pile. He felt she tried to work her own hunger away - which surely couldn't be healthy. He'd leave dead things or bones he would find interesting there for her and run off before she was disturbed.

This one, though, was his. Blood splattered across the ground as he tore the rat open to begin eating - though, oddly enough, it caught his eye. The red marks left by the carcass. Mostly, he would consider it to be nothing more than a mess and something to be cleaned up, but he saw something different. Though he didn't know what quite. So, he picked up the rat and dragged it outside.

He found himself staring at a wall some distance away from the den, the rat in his jaws. Slowly, carefully, he pressed the carcass against the wall and dragged across to create a scarlet, horizontal line. At the end of the line, he drew an uneven oval, and then a thicker line that stuck out of the side of the oval, vaguely align with the other line.

It was missing something. Something important. He dropped the rat and used his own paw to drag the blood from the main line down in four points, before he stepped back to admire his art. It was... definitely something. Not dissimilar from a child's drawing - if that wasn't exactly what it is - and, in true child-like fashion, Bones' tail thumped off the ground as he sat back onto his haunches, admiring his 'painting.'


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Giggle had been padding down to her den, intent on checking the water levels and the status of her mushroom 'garden' before heading off to hunt. The rich, sharp scent of fresh blood, however, had put her on alert, and she'd prowled silently over the ridge, low to the ground.

There, she paused.

Bones was standing before the wall, and he had something in his jaws--a dead something--and he was passing it over the rock.

Giggle found herself fascinated. The pup was inspired, there could be no doubting that: the strokes that he made were something more than streaks of scarlet-on-brown, that she could tell. They were... symbolic, of something. Representative. The way the patterns in the bone showed her things, he was creating patterns.

It looked like something, to her, too. Legs. A head? She wasn't sure, but it looked like a creature, a living creature. Giggle watched raptly right up until Bones had finished, and only when he'd been motionless for awhile did she straighten up and approach.

"What do you see in it?" was all she asked, simply and quietly.

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Roll the bones.

The dog looked towards the hyena, going to nuzzle her nose a little before he excitedly scooted out of the way so she could see the painting.

"A lizard!"" he squeaked. "Crawling along the wall. He doesn't have eyes."

He nodded a little, tilting his head down to lick the blood off his fur, tail still thumping rapidly off the ground. He was obviously very proud of his work of art - which had began dripping down the wall.



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Giggle glanced quietly at her "son" as he spoke, and then--moving quite slowly--looked back to the lizard on the wall. Eventually, she moved carefully forward, step by step, until she was nearly touching it. Here she paused, sniffing over it hesitantly, like a cat sniffing something unfamiliar, ready to spring backwards at any moment. She didn't seem frightened, though--only careful, as if perhaps she were afraid to damage the art. At long last she stepped back, looking solemnly to Bones. She only asked one question.

"And why does he not have eyes?"

Her tone wasn't mocking, or derisive, nor was it reproachful. It wasn't leading, either, like a parent to a child, in a condescending way; it seemed to be a genuine, quietly curious question, and the gaze with which she regarded Bones echoed this.

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Roll the bones.

Bones seemed to think, for a moment. He spoke carefully, as if afraid to offend the painting, "When he hatched he couldn't see, but he never minded it 'cause he was happy anyway. He could still talk, and hear, and walk, and eat, and he has friends," the pup paused, before adding, "They're not around right now. But it's okay because he's still happy."

The dog nodded a few times, content. He glanced only briefly at the wall again, quietly thinking though remaining sitting where he was.



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Giggle slowly lowered herself down to sit on her haunches as she listened, quiet, to the pup's words. She waited until he had finished, looking almost carefully between the dripping cave-painting and the african wild dog beside her. At length, after he had fallen silent, she again spoke.

"Have you ever met someone who can't see, Bones? I once met a bat who couldn't see. Not with his eyes, at least. He saw in other ways. He was soft, and quiet, but his mind could see far beyond the blindness of his eyes. He could hear the beating of a heart, the echo of a sound, and fly by that alone. If I meet him again, I will bring him to you, and you can ask him what it is like to see without eyes."

Giggle paused, looking at the blood-art again.

"You said that he had friends. Will you draw them, too?"

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Roll the bones.

The pup blinked as his tail slowly stopped moving and his ears flopped down. He looked a little uneasy as he glanced from the rat and then to Giggle. "I don't know anybody other than you," he muttered.

Bones tried to think of people he knew - people he saw and talked to as much as he did to his mother, but his mind was blank. There was the bird whose name he couldn't recall, but he only saw her once.

Does that count?

He stood once more and wandered to the rat, scooping it up to begin dragging it across the wall again, beginning to create a figure similar to the 'lizard' it faced. He tilted his head a little once smearing his paws downwards to create legs before he lifted himself up onto his own hind legs, carefully drawing two lines sticking up from the figure's head like rabbit ears.

He dropped down, looked at the drawing, and then smeared in two tiny lines in the figure's head before he wandered back and sat, nodding at it.


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Giggle tilted her head as she watched the pup work, eyes flicking between him and the wall.

It's true. He's never met many others.

"I've never left this cave, Bones," she said quietly as she watched. "But many others come through here, looking for answers, or other things. If you stick near the pit long enough, you'll meet more of them. Hopefully not like the three-headed dog, though," she added wryly.

Then she nodded up toward the rock.

"But you are not a blind lizard. And those are his stories, not yours. We draw on what we know, so the more you know, the more you can imagine--but you can learn things by imagining them, too. What is that one's story, then?"

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Roll the bones.

"That's me," nodded Bones. "I'm happy too."

He lay down, tail thumping against the ground again. He flashed a stupid grin as he licked his paws clean again. "You're happy, right mom?"

He looked over his shoulder to the hyena, stupid grin and all, licking his muzzle clean before tilting his head down to lick his chest.

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Giggle snorted softly, standing and padding over to Bones to briefly lick his head before flopping down beside him. She lay on her chest and paws, head upright, watching him.

"Yes, I am. I am worried about the water, but the bones say there's nothing to be done about it--that it's the natural way of the caves. Other than that? The bones tell me what I need to know, and it's something I can share with the others. And you," she added, leaning over to give the pup a nuzzle, "being happy makes me happy, too."

Giggle then leaned back, crossing her front paws and eyeing Bones closely. "And what is it that makes you happy, pup?"

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Roll the bones.