ORIGIN

All at once, he was excited puppy and happy crow: dancing here and there, darting in little joyous leaps. The forest had answered to them-! This time when he dipped slender snout toward the lion's muzzle, it was with eyes that glowed with enthusiasm.

"They must have been! And now they're answering!" He finished his sentence with a bright, happy call that couldn't quite be spelled out: a sort of cawing yip, a cross between a dog's happy bark and a crow's lighter shrill. He seemed to dance around, and then came to a happy, tongue-lolling, lopsided-ear-tuft halt on his haunches before Mercy. His feathered tail swept back and forth, fanning leaves in its path and tangling itself with them.

"I have gardens all over--sort of! In Canis, in Monoceros, in Cetus. I put a few plants in Orion but someone's already got an old garden there. I want more--maybe we could put plants all over the tunnels that don't have them? Moving dirt's hard, but it'd be worth it..." He trailed off happily, blue-eyed gaze briefly distant.

It seemed that "where do we go next" was still on Mercy's plate--and Oliver would be happy to follow the lion's lead.

He stayed tucked down, silent for a beat as the last of that sense of oneness faded. Then he looked up to the white lion. Mercy was already turning, leading, and that was all Oliver needed; the reassurance of having a guide and guardian again (someone else to bear responsibility) was an intense relief.

"Thanks," he murmured, without saying what for, exactly. Then he answered Mercy's question. "Not... new, exactly, but it's not like, a proper garden? My family lives there," he explained, "my mom and stuff. So I just keep some plants there, just in case. It's a little too dark, and wet, for most things to grow..." Oliver went on. His words gained speed, enthusiasm driving away the last of his uncertainties as he babbled on about which plants suited Cetus, and which could not manage; about how those that thrived in the thicker shade beneath Eridanus's canopies survived well enough in the marsh. About Cetus's own plant life, and what made it unique, but how it was "a little smelly," on the other hand. Not that Oliver minded. He was half-dog, half-crow, and more likely to roll in bad odors than avoid them.

All in all, he was glad he'd found Mercy here--and reconnected to the network of plants throughout the cave. He felt... forgiven, somehow, as if something had gone wrong that was now made okay again. What it was, he couldn't be sure; but he didn't think to look back at the broken tree and what lay hidden beneath as they departed.

They had, he hoped, better things ahead.