ORIGIN

The piglet marched through the snow with great enthusiasm. Each step was more like a high-kick. Sometimes ice would cake to his hooves and he could toss it with enough force to his step, but more often he would march with his nose down and shovel as much snow together as he could and then jump in to it. The snow would crunch, he would giggle, and the process would start again.

Without proper supervision Lithos was bound to get in to some kind of trouble. He didn't think about where he was going or how alone he was, only focused on the game he had created for himself. Pile up the snow, squish the snow. Pile up the snow, squish the snow -- he left a nice trail behind himself complete with squash-marks that were somewhat bean-shaped.

After one more squish, he kicked out his little legs and got to his feet, huffing and puffing with the effort. Further ahead there was a raised pile of snow that he immediately began to high-step towards, eager to plunder it of its crunchy goodness, but the closer he got the higher the snow looked. And then higher, and higher - becoming a wall coated in ice, topped with white.

Segments had crumbled at some point, and there were stones scattered everywhere; some didn't even have any snow on them! So those ones he ignored. It was a pity that Lithos lacked situational awareness, given that he'd marched right in to the middle of a golem nest.

He saw the short one first and did not link it to the massive thing that had tried to pulverize him earlier. Rather than be afraid of it he was curious. He approached it with a few taps of his little feet, stopping just as it rose to block the light, as a familiar chill descended down his spine. By that point the others had also risen; they were larger by far, and as they came to surround him Lithos finally clued in to the danger.

He pirouetted on the spot in an attempt to keep his eyes on all three of them at once, which was an impossible task. The little gembound let out a few panicked huffs and squeals, resorting to an action that instinct drew out of him: the drag of a heel against the dirt, pawing at the loose rocks, and lowering his head as if he might charge them with tusks that had yet to grow.

They got closer, slow and steady just like before, but Lithos had not learned to anticipate their movements. He was too young to think very far ahead, too inexperienced with the world of the caves. His grunting and pawing at the dirt resulted in a small cleft being torn among the rocks beside him and so, when the golems came for him with reaching arms and a predictable encroachment to his personal bubble, one might expect Lithos would fight back. Lithos slammed his foot down as if to start the charge - but caught his ankle between the stones he'd just cut in to, and could not lift it free again.

He raised his head as high as he could and squealed. The fist was reaching for his face again - and so he twisted and writhed, trying to keep away from it. The panic filled him with adrenaline, which in turn fueled something deeper. Just like when Lithos had tried to show off his red sense after his hatching, he felt a pressure in his head that built with his panic, and somehow knew to redirect that energy in to his teeth. He wanted to bite that hand that reached for him! It just had to get a little bit closer.

The crack of stone heads slamming together is deep like thunder and reverberates through the air. The rumbling rolls through him and for a split second Lithos doubts himself; but his magic is charged, his mouth beginning to take on the acerbic quality of venom, and he cannot back down now - even though that would be the wise decision. Really, the only logical decision.

He reacts to their blunder by charging at the closest amalgamation of rock and biting down with all his might. His teeth connect to stone and grind; it hurts him more than anything, biting at this stonework, and he's probably chipped a few of his teeth because of it. The connection is unmistakable, but he doesn't understand yet that the magically imbued bite will lack any real effect for the hungry golems. A good try - but his mouth hurts now and the golems can easily take advantage of his blunder.

The bite was as effective as one might imagine - it wasn't. Unless his goal was to strain his jaw muscles and cause pain to shoot through his own body from the effort, in which case he was quite successful. Lithos refused to let go even as his teeth grated transversely across the rocky surface of his target's impossible flesh.

When the golems shift and move to crush him beneath stone fists he finally loses his grip, briefly lifted up by the giant's own momentum; his teeth drag across the surface and he hits the dirt hard. It is enough to wake Lithos up to the danger he is in. He scrambles to his little feet and tries to dive for one of the irregular gaps between the golem bodies, wedging himself in a spot that they might have trouble adjusting to; but he also gets himself stuck, and that's when things take another turn.

He feels an immediate pressure in his head. There is an incongruent haze of color that creeps in to the corner of his good eye - and he feels lethargic as soon as he sees that faint hue. The stone that's taken up hold where his eye should have been is reacting to something; the magic within it behaves as if it is acting on its own, forcing Lithos in to a state of such intense sleepiness that his panic briefly abates.

A precursor to chrysalization. The last thing he remembers is the pressure of stone all around him, the grinding of stone-on-stone as the golems adjust for a new attack. The sickly color in the corner of his eye seeps in everywhere as the stone's magic spreads like a shield across his face and down his neck, spawning a thin shell.