The sound of the gem dragging on the rocks echoed through the hall, across the forum and into the broken city as the cat left the ring of seats and entered the streets that stretched all around it. He would have to stop here and take a break - his neck and back were already starting to ache. So, Bartos dragged the stone over to a little cranny in the buildings, settling it in the corner of some ruins before hopping up onto the low, crumbled wall. There he laid and stretched along its length, reaching his paws far out in front of him and curling his tail by his side. The cat parted his jaws in a wide yawn, too; he hadn't realized how tired he was until he actually managed to find some place to rest. Here, he could keep an eye on anything happening in the street around him, but he could also monitor the gleaming pink gemstone he had found.
Bartos smacked his lips and smiled, satisfied. He nestled his chin down on his paws and closed his eyes, wide ears still listening and alert while he slowly drifted off to sleep. It didn't take long for slumber to grab a hold of him and wrench him into a deep, dark place far away from the safety of Orion. A place where the ceiling didn't glimmer with the reflection of light on crystals - there was no ceiling, not that he could see. It was inky black. The sides were too, and the floor; everything around him was inky. There were no details he could discern from the world that had engulfed him, and for a while he simply existed.
Then the dream started. He could never remember how the dream started, how it transitioned from unconscious blackness into images and memories and imagination - all melded into a scene crafted both of his willpower and drifting mind. Only that it just suddenly was.
He was walking, where - it looked like the cliffside. It was familiar like the cliffside, yes, because his den was just around the corner, and he could remember passing by a curious landmark in the rocks that he recognized. Only the marking was several feet closer to the corner, almost right on it. He thought it was strange, but he didn't dwell on it. He rounded the corner and there he found his den, and he went to check on his collection of rocks, no more than a few shards of deep blue benitoite and other metamorphic rocks he'd found scattered on the floor. He looked, but there was nothing, and a panic spawned inside of him. Where had they gone? He cried out and searched, running along the edge of the wall and peering into every crack he could find, turning over rocks, gazing down the edge of the cliff, but to no avail. Only when he returned to their usual hiding place had they suddenly returned, but this time in great abundance and in awe he analyzed the pile before him.
There were shards of a chrysalis but they were light blue, not dark. Large chunks of pink rock, and flecks of green scattered on the floor like big dust. There were ambiguous forms of glistening white that reminded him of the gleaming ceiling above. He couldn't find the shards he usually kept ferreted away, and the more he looked, the more and more strange rocks popped up just out of the corner of his eye. They all manifested there with no reason, other than the assumption that they had always been there as part of his collection. They were collecting dust, and some of them were chipped and cracked. How could he have let his hoard fall into such disarray?!
Before Bartos could busy himself cleaning them, there was a shadow passing by just behind him. He noticed it and whirled around, only to see that a giant, buck-toothed cave rat had grabbed one in his jaws and scampered away with it. "Hey, wait!" He called out, but his voice sounded like it was drowned out against the atmosphere of the dream; thick and hazy, distant; it left him with the feeling of helplessness that he'd never known before.