ORIGIN

Tunnel I had scared him. He had decided to run as fast as he could through the tunnel and bolt out whatever exit he reached first. Luckily, he was fast, and soon he found himself slowing down as he found himself somewhere very, very different.

Polaris was beautiful (though he preferred orion, dubbed by him as the 'star room') and he felt great despite being a little tired from running, which surely meant that he felt happy. That was how happiness worked, right?

He continued to trot around, mouth open, tongue out and eyes wide. It didn't take long for him to notice fungus growing near a wall, and so he took it upon himself to approach it - afterall, mushrooms reminded him of his 'mother.' He flopped down near the cluster; though at a slight distance, tail thumping hollowly off the cave floor.

And there the pup lay for a good while, watching the mushrooms. He wasn't sure how long it'd take to get back to Canis, but it was okay for now. He lifted his gaze to look around Polaris some more, quiet.


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When I think

"When I speak"

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Having returned to Polaris after one of his excursions with Baratheon, Booker had settled down into a comfortable nook in one of the cave's walls, guarded by a thick thatch of his mushroom friends. The hole was almost completely obscured by the fungi, and he'd been there since his draconic friend had dropped him off. The numbat had been dozing, spores a light blanket over his fur - when a huge thump sounded just outside of his temporary home. Startling out of a nice dream about The Monarch, Booker squeaked, scurrying backwards to get away from the potential danger. After all, when you were smaller than the cave rats, plenty of things wanted to eat you.

The sound dulled slightly, accompanied by... breath? Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Booker crept towards the entrance of the hole, working eye peering over the cap of the tallest mushroom. Oh dear, he thought in a panic. A gigantic beast, not unlike Magdalena, had decided to lay just outside of his hideaway, and seemed quite content to stay. Gulping nervously, ears and tail twitching, Booker lifted his front paws up onto the cap of the mushroom, only his head and neck out of the crack in the cave wall. "H-hello? W-who are you?"

The dog blinked and looked down. He lowered his neck a little to peer closely at the little numbat, ears pricked. "... I'm Bones. What are you?" spoke the wild pup, carefully. He wasn't sure about this creature - it looked like a rat but it's eye was weird.

It smelled like mom. Disgusting, but less disgusting than the gore-covered hyena. He frowned a little. Too gross to eat, and he didn't really feel like grooming his own meal. He started to get up, before pausing.

This thing wasn't food, but instead maybe a friend? This made Bones excited - his tail began thrashing back and forth again. "Are you hungry? Do you wanna eat? What do you like to eat? I like rats - do you like rats? A rat must be like a feast for you," babbled the dog.


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Bones? Well that's not a great sign, the numbat thought with a grimace, eyeing the dog warily. "I'm Booker," he offered after a moment, whiskers twitching when the dog frowned. Flinching back when the giant beast moved to stand, Booker tilted his head to the side as he was suddenly assaulted by a wave of questions from the pup. The sight of his tail thrashing about put Book to ease a bit - the movement was too reminiscent of Baratheon not to.

With a giggle, Booker tried to sort through the questions, cleaning his whiskers between answers. "I suppose I am a bit hungry, yes, though I doubt I could take down a rat," he replied, eye glazing over a bit as he pondered the thought. "They don't look like they'd taste very good... I eat the small, crawly things that live here. I think they're called term-ites?" He shrugged, jumping up to sit on top of the mushroom cap he'd been leaning on, sneezing at the cloud of spores the movement produced. "There are plenty of rats, though. I think they like the mushrooms, too," he added thoughtfully, patting his fungal perch fondly.

Bones tilted his head - an almost comical guesture due to his over-sized, floppy ears. He didn't know what a termite was, but he knew the crawly-things. He'd find them while digging, sometimes.

"Have you ever tried a rat? Mom says I'm good at hunting them, 'cause I'm really fast," he said. It was clear the dog still had the mindset of a little kid, despite already growing to be a little lanky.

He turned and began sniffing at the ground, quickly finding a scent. He barked loudly and turned his head back towards Booker, "C'mon! There's food nearby. You want me to carry you?"


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Mom? The numbat had yet to hear the term, but waved the thought off - it was probably like when Quix had mentioned a 'dad'. Booker hopped down from his mushroom perch, landing on the floor in a roll that made his fur poof up like an agitated cat. He jolted at the dog's bark, hurrying to stand up and trot over to where Bones was waiting. The offer made him pause, peering skeptically up, up, up at the much larger Gembound. Booker shrugged, smiling. "Sure! But it's probably safer if I just..." Wiggling his tail to steady himself, Book rushed forward, scurrying up Bones' front leg, climbing until he reached the dog's back. "There! Now we can find some rats for you, and some ter-mites for me!"

The pup blinked briefly, remaining awkwardly still while the numbat scampered up his leg. Before long he ended up nodding and trotting forwards, head down to the ground for a few moments as he followed the rat-scent.

He abruptly broke off into a run, apparently caring very little if Booker is holding on or not, only slowing down in corners to sniff around, poking his nose near cracks or between rocks. Soon enough, a fat rat thundered out from the rocks, scampering off.

Bones gave chase to it, jaws snapping. Despite how fast the dog ran, he couldn't catch up to the rat - who slid into a crevice into the wall and out of sight. Bones whined a little, craning his head back to peer at Booker.
"Where do.. term-iites live?"" he asked, quiet.


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Booker squeaked when the dog broke into a run, barely clinging on to the short fur of his perch as the duo raced through Polaris. The numbat let out a quiet breath of relief when they slowed, peering down at the crevice where the rat had escaped. Theoretically, he could go in there after it... struck by the idea, he scurried down to the floor, glancing back up at his new companion with a twitch of his whiskers. "Well, they live... uh... in these... tall spiky things?" Unable to come up with a particularly brilliant description, the youngster hurried over to one of the structures.

It came up to about shoulder-height on the dog, and towered over Booker. He looked back at Bones, whispering "Watch this!" before tapping lightly on the side of the mound. Immediately, insects poured from the top, inspecting the disturbance. With a long, prehensile tongue, the numbat scooped up a mouthful, chewing on them happily. Satisfied, Book turned back to the hole the lucky rat had escaped through, and scurried over to it, peering inside.

Eyes glinted back at him, and he grinned, calling back to Bones as he crawled in after the rodent. "Get ready to catch a rat!" With this, he chattered, charging at the beast. It was easily as big as himself, but obviously not used to something so small being so aggressive - albeit playfully. With a startled squeak, the rat ran out past him - straight towards Bones.

Bones sat and watched, blinking. "How did you do that?" he asked loudly, tail beginning to thump off the cave floor again.

He watched Booker crawl back to the hole his meal fled into and sprang back into action. As the rat came for him he lunged forwards and easily caught it in his front paws. Immediately, he began eating the rat's stomach. The rat screamed, of course. While most creatures would kill their prey first and eat more delicately, Bones seems to have the instinct to eat as much as he could before the rat could run away again.

Not that it was going to run away now, that is.

Within seconds there was nothing left of the rat except for the blood on the dog's coat and the scraps of fur left lying on the floor and - more neatly, a pile of little bones set to the side. The dog began licking his legs and chest clean with a contented sigh.

"Do you make art?"

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