ORIGIN

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He had come to Ursa along with the majority of Tahi-shei's warband. There were so many beings, and it unsettled him, set his spine fur tingling as he walked in their path.

As soon as the activity petered off with the base, Pallas quietly excused himself to break off into the forest. If asked, he'd simply give an insulted 'I'm hungry'- though, it was a lie. He didn't care about any of them.

What he cared about was his family. Finally, he was so close again, so close to finding her and being with her once more. It had been so many cycles. As he trudged through the snow, Pallas's ears pinned back on his head as he glanced around. Now, where would he start?

He breathed out shakily. Mother had infected lessers before, and he doubted he could just find a Gembound aligned with her out here. Maybe there were, with the noise that the others were making, but they seemed to be far enough away by this point that they may not even have to worry about interaction with the infected.

Maybe. Hopefully, they weren't too far. He kind of wished for them to be attacked at this point.

He had more important things to worry about, though, as his skin shook again in the cold of Ursa. Going from living in a swamp to being in a mountain was certainly not the greatest experience. He didn't even know what would be out there. There were the songs of lessers crying out in the distance, though. The linsang's ears swiveled forward- he could pinpoint their direction and it sounded close enough. A smattering of trees, perhaps, was the source, and he turned himself to pace in that direction.

He hated the snow against his body more than the swamp, he discovered. Well. Fine, he'd just deal with it. Before him were dark lines of some sort of birds digging at the base of a lone tree- mountain sparrows, if he'd known the name for them. Whatever they were, they were lessers, and they could have Mother in them.

They'd never know what was coming. Slowly, the linsang stalked to them, unaware of their friendly nature. Close, close enough- they were staring, but they hadn't fled. Did Mother want him back? Were they under her? Pallas's ears dialed back once more as he straightened, the birds not even moving- in fact, some moving towards him.

Okay, this was weird. Pallas took one step back, staring to them, his tail lashing in discomfort. "Hello?" They had chirped in unison, and Pallas rumbled, stepping forward to approach them.

A few hopped back at his sudden movement, staying still, but he was slow- slow enough to approach one and stare down at it, contemplating. How could he even check for Mother without magic? Ugh- he hated that. Use magic, that deer asked of them, and Pallas shook his head and stuck out his gem-topped tongue. How dumb could one be, to eradicate all of Mother? She wasn't bad. Or, okay, well- she did some questionable stuff, but he had more of a life under her than he'd ever had outside of her influence. It's why he was here!

Nevertheless, Pallas grumbled and twitched his coat again, leaning in to the friendly little sparrows to see if he could find any flowering fungus on them.

(tl:dr, pallas is leaning down at some mountain sparrows to see if he can see mother on them! and also internally monologuing-)

She had whispered into their minds, in the Raid. Told them where to search.

That did not mean she was so easily found; one left guides, not one's heart, when giving directions to potential enemies. Likewise, though she held spies everywhere, Ursa was a very large cave. These particular mountain sparrows--though oblivious, perhaps, to the danger that Pallas posed--were not touched by Mother's love.

Not yet, at least.

Nothing stirred over the snow, the sweeping winds coiling, here and there. Ursa seemed... almost empty; or maybe Mother was just over the next snowy rise. In this white wasteland, it was impossible to know.

@Pallas

There was nothing. Not even as it flinched away from Pallas's slowly raising paw, not even as he withdrew the limb back to his chest.

He could feel his hackles rising. Eyes widened as his expression hardened, a burning heat of emotion bundling somewhere in his heart and threatening to claw its way up his throat. There was nothing. It was cold, he was lost, and he was terrified, so terrified for his family, for his mother he'd abandoned, for his future and his siblings.

Pallas brought his paw down harshly into the snow, startling the sparrows away and twisting about, true tears threatening to freeze his eyes shut.

"MOTHER!" He cried out into the wind uselessly. "PLEASE! I know you're out there!" He hiccupped- he sobbed, staring into one copse of trees, to the lights above, to the tunnels he'd left and the tunnel he was supposed to go through. "I want to go home!"

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, some voice taunted him. Begged him to give up in the snow and waste away, even after one failed attempt, like some drama queen. No- there had to be more chances. He had to find her. Standing straighter, the linsang's head swiveled from one direction to the other, his breath coming in clouds of white smoke.

And he pelted for the trees. Lessers must be there. He wouldn't- can't hunt like this, not while he was so desperate, so close to screwing up some hunt and hurting himself. All he could do was cry for her like a Gembound a quarter of his age.

With his stamina, the constant screams for 'Mother!' and his dash petered down to a trudging movement and a muttering at any new sight, panting in the freezing cold as his mind raced a mile a minute. "Mother?" He wheezed out as he thought he caught something out of the corner of his eye- whether he was right or wrong wasn't for him to decide.

He had to try. And, it seemed he hadn't been trying enough.

It took all of his effort to actually slow down and catch his breath, the linsang trudging to a tall, thinned tree that stood alone in the wastes. He had to rest. It's what he meant to do, and when he leaned on the tree, Pallas dragged himself down in a sigh, holding his head against the bark as he shut his eyes.

He was so close. He had to be close. Mother had to be here.

But where? Could he even rest until he had found her, told her of the danger?

He doubted it.

His call was heard--by a single, tiny set of ears. But it was passed on, and Mother was made aware.

Mother... knew.

Was this Pallas? One of the most dedicated of the First; one of her Beloved Sons?

There was silence in Ursa--its usual sweeps of wind and distant twitter of sparrows; nothing more. But hidden in the framework of ice and snow, things were stirring.

Heads lifted, searching.

The Frostbiter saw nothing from his den. Mother knew. The Ice Beast, far up in the caves of Ursa Major, grumpily stuck his ragged-maned face into the cold. Blinking eyes and tasting tongue found no sign of the linsang. Mother knew. The flock of Mountain Sparrows, playing among the frozen seeds of a long-dead bush, stopped and looked around as one. There was no Pallas here. Mother knew.

It was the Ghostbird (ahh, Mother's beloved, near-invisible scouts) soaring high above whose sharp eyes picked him out far below; but the linsang was fleeing, rushing in great leaps and bounds. With Mother's guidance the white roc swept lower, following, and when at last Pallas came to a gasping halt at a lone, dead tree, the Ghostbird's great phantasmic breadth swept down to meet him.

Enormous white wings (some twelve feet broad) folded, and the bird trudged forward through the snow, its ghostly white eyes regarding Pallas placidly. It stood there, then, as if waiting for something. As if... reassuring.

And when at last a distant, distinct click echoed in the distance, far off toward the Drowned Forest, the Ghostbird turned toward it. It began a shuffling run, head low, and then launched into flight; it seemed, if nothing else, to be a guide.

@Pallas

It was desperation that had driven him to expend all of his energy. Desperation that could break him, and he knew this, and he knew he was so close to messing up.

But he needed to find her.

His ear flicked toward the sound of crunching snow before his eyes did. "Who-?" He half-whispered, tail flicking behind him.

They were silent. They were watching. They were her's.

Instead of jumping to cheer, Pallas could only feel a complete wave of relief wash over him, comfort and strength and knowledge that he did it. She found him. He found her. They were so close. He regained his strength and mustered himself to move as fast as he could, shutting his panting mouth and shoving back off of the tree.

His head wheeled at the click. The Ghostbird began to move in turn, and Pallas wagered a glance to it, watching. That direction? Pelt twitching, Pallas began at a walk, then a jog after it, his eyes almost never leaving the bird as it soared into the air.

He would follow for as long as he needed to. He no longer needed to rush- Mother was here, and he was about to be in her embrace once more. Mother would not want him to rush. That could leave him to hurting himself, after all, and that wouldn't do. He had to deliver the best of himself to her for him to be truly happy.

As if he wasn't happy enough with the thought of hearing her again.

Any time Pallas faltered, the Ghostbird seemed to notice; a circle, a slow, a lower sweep, would take it into account. Were Pallas just a little smaller, it may even have carried him; but as it was it led him, at last, to the Drowned Forest. The path led between the mountains, higher and higher, so that when at last they reached the water, the divot in which it lay--a vast sunken plain--was still higher than much of Ursa as a whole.

Hidden away here was the dark water; parts of it were iced over, and from it erupted hundreds of dead-appearing trees. Lifeless branches, bleached trunks, jutted up from the surface--but beneath the shimmering aurora-light reflected across the lake lay dark, thick foliage.

This wasn't where the Ghostbird was leading Pallas, however. It swept down, hitting the snow with a few crunching steps, and then began walking toward an overhanging bank. The click came again, louder this time--as if guiding it.

If he searched closely, Pallas would find a tunnel mouth: covered over with fallen snow, opening right against the Drowned Forest itself. A Cleaner waited just inside, patient, but hidden; the Ghostbird waited just outside, as if to ensure that its charge found where it was meant to go.

@Pallas

The air was getting thinner the higher they went up, and Pallas found himself halting for moments here and there in their ascension. He was grateful, then, that Mother was considerate in all things- the Ghostbird had waited for him enough times, and he continued to push on, his muscles aching.

When they came to the ridge of the plain, Pallas stretched out, looking at the trees. Imagine the hunting here. Imagine the fishing! He nearly wanted to dive in himself, but he could feel how cold the air was here in his bones. There was no way he'd get out of it alive if he jumped in now.

His teeth clicked together as he followed the Ghostbird's path, trudging behind it in the snow and reaching forward at the click. Mother. Careful eyes roamed around the place, remembering the path the two of them took as he came to the tunnel mouth.

Home.

Pallas forced himself forward at the prospect of love and family, tears welling up again in joy. "Thank you," he whispered out loud. Thank you to Mother, to the Ghostbird, to the tunnel and cave and to his home.

Careful paws shoved in the loose snow. It clung to his fur, seeping in with his chill, but he could not care for it- right now, his mind was solely on Mother. After all of himself was in, Pallas's head rose in the darker shade of the cave, looking about at the walls and taking it all in. "Hello?" He hazarded after a moment, slinking forward.

Was there to be a Greater waiting for him? A node, one of those bugs Tahi-shei had mentioned? He hadn't seen the Cleaner waiting, not yet- but the possibility of one being there hung in his mind like a warm blanket.

How strange, to find comfort in the beings others demonized.

The Ghostbird studied Pallas, listening to first the thank you whispered barely audible past its bird's ears. It then waited, and listened to Mother's command; and what it issued in response, to Pallas, was a quiet squawk. Was that acknowledgment-? It was hard to tell.

The Ghostbird took flight, then, a fumbling run into a low, wings-beating soar that carried it gradually away, released from its temporary duty to go back to whatever life it generally led.

And from the darkness within the ice tunnel, the Cleaner appeared. Its buglike body was some seven feet long, and each step was a quiet scrape in the shadows. A glassy abdomen showed strange white webbing over it--a familiar spidery pattern, and one that seemed to weave both above and below its surface. A small tuft of white fungus joined the white fur at its thorax. It peered at Pallas, and paused, as if afraid to frighten him; and from its mandibles came another quiet click, echoing down the ice tunnel.

It then turned, slowly--with difficulty, in the narrow space--and started back the way it had come. It glanced back a few more paces in--was Pallas following?

@Pallas

The Ghostbird was all but forgotten (at least, for now) as the quiet noises of the Cleaner caught Pallas's attention. He squinted, slightly, before eyes going wide- oh shit. That thing's huge. The little deer's warband would have nothing on this- and he sighed, dipping his head in utter relief.

Mother would be safe.

Pallas watched on as it paused, expectant more than afraid at this point. No- he was eager. If he saw giant bugs, then he was in the right place. Mother- that was Mother!- had wound its way onto the creature's abdomen, and he could see the fungus on its back.

The linsang backed up a pace to give the Cleaner room, then, and followed once it began making its way down the tunnel. He'd follow for as long as he needed to- no more stops. No more rests. He was home.

The way was long and arduous, and bitter, bitter cold. Now and again the Cleaner glanced behind it to ensure that Pallas followed. The ice tunnel--chipped away by massive jaws over time--crossed other paths, and turned on itself several times, so that the way the Cleaner took was difficult to follow. Pallas could undoubtedly follow his own scent back out, but to happen on the correct route downward would be difficult for outsiders.

The place it led him to was... strange.

It was a hollow, as if built for a home; it was a small cave of its own, deep within the ice. But it seemed built for insulation--which was odd, because it was quite large.

A series of white seeds just outside, long frozen, were arrayed in neat rows and the Cleaner stepped carefully over these. Within the little room, a baubled stone set up on a ledge gave off soft light. The floor was sunken in, covered in loose, dry, dead grass thickly-laid to serve as a form of bedding. It looked like something for a far larger creature to lie in, but the faint odor here seemed to say that no one had been here for days, at least--possibly weeks.

As the Cleaner passed this tunnel, then turned, as if to indicate it, another approached from behind it. This one held--as if it had been waiting--prey within its jaws. The two Cleaners struggled to squeeze past one another, so that the new one could approach. It laid the fairly fresh, near-frozen dead mouse on the ground before Pallas; this was an Ice Mouse, small and white but hopefully a decent meal for a little Linsang. A gift, a bit of food, as Pallas had given to Mother so many times himself.

And in one claw--offered out separately, as if to leave it to Pallas's own choice--this new Cleaner offered something else: a small tuft of white fungus, set delicately (and stinking) beside the little mouse.

Then the Cleaners waited, watching Pallas in attentive silence.

@Pallas

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Pallas

Game Master Dark

Pallas

Game Master Dark

Pallas

Game Master Dark

Pallas

Game Master Dark

Pallas

Game Master Dark