He would admit, he had spent the remainder of his time in Polaris looking for something adequate to give to White. The little shard of crystal that she had bequeathed to him was nestled in a cozy somewhere near the river, near where they had first discovered it. There wasn't really any way for him to carry it around with him - Caravaggio had little grasp on material possessions. They served him no purpose, really, and besides, wearing something like he'd seen some other Gembounds do would greatly devalue his utmost natural beauty. A necklace would take away from the unadulterated and sheer perfection that was the Strong Cow Caravaggio. It was bad enough that the bright purple gem was situated right in the center of his chest and that tended to distract from his handsome chiseled face.

Anyways, he totally digressed. His thought process did. (I did.) He'd been wandering up and down the river looking for something shiny to catch his eye, and occasionally he'd see the crystal White had given him and get excited, only to remember that it was the gift she gave him and not an adequate gift to give back to her. That was called regifting, and while Caravaggio was an asshole, he wasn't so much of an asshole that he'd give her back something she gave him, which was essentially a rejection. He wouldn't do that. No, no, noooo.

When he spotted the gleaming topaz in the river, his heart jumped - and then he saw the moving rocks, the golems, and his heart promptly sank. He may have nearly peed. The sight of them moving like catatonic hospital patients had made him jump, and he charged away, eager to place as much distance between himself and them as possible. In the process, though, he had instead discovered a new Gembound that was doing - oh, what was she doing? What was that noise? Oh - OH GOD - WHY WAS SHE DOING THAT - IT SMELLED SO BAD - NOW SHE WAS LAYING IN IT - WHAT!!! Caravaggio bleated his surprise, frozen as he stared in disbelief at the child. Why.... how.... he couldn't fathom it.

To make things better (or worse) he wasn't the only one to take notice of her. Some creature had emerged and made a beeline for the vomiting dog, seeming unfazed by her disgusting gut-wrenching habit. Caravaggio whimpered quietly, holding his ground as he watched. He was tempted to just run up to the coyote and vault her into the water, but that would require touching, which would run the risk of him coming into contact with her bile, and that was just... no.

The instant the little coyote tooted out her surprise and fell back, Caravaggio bleated out again. His legs stiffened before he jumped back a step, startled by the coyote being... well, startled. Even without his full size, he was quite a bit larger than the babe and probably a little larger than the hyena - but that didn't mean Caravaggio was necessarily aware of his size. He only backpedaled furiously away from the spittle-and-bile-spraying baby, thankful that he was already at a distance that whatever fluids she emitted wouldn't reach him. Also, the hyena seemed to catch the brunt of it, so that was good. Still scared the hell out of him.

Meanwhile, the hyena was trying to soothe the little pup, but Caravaggio almost liked to believe that she was speaking to him. She wasn't, but it didn't make much of a difference. He held a breath in his chest and stared at them wide-eyed, even peeking out from behind the hyena, standing a good few feet away. And, doing as she said, he sealed his lips and sucked in a breath. Eyes trained on the slobbery dog. Breathe. In and out. God but she's so nasty. Why am I still here?

When the babe startled to mumble something, Caravaggio slowly narrowed his eyes. He dared to incline his head in closer, as if curious to what she was trying to say - those wide ears of his twitched and eagerly drank in her words, struggling to comprehend them. Muh-muh-muh- what the hell did that mean? The cow couldn't help the look of complete distaste that crossed his features. It was more of a confused-and-disturbed kind of expression, really, one that said 'what kind of an idiot are you?', though he knew he shouldn't have been so callous. She was just a child, and he had to remember that when he first emerged from his chrysalis, he couldn't even walk. He needed help from the black lemur and the elk and the plague horse - mostly the plague horse, who threatened to infect him with all kinds of gross deadly diseases by just standing near him.

Mon sta bee- behind- Holy shit! A monster bee?! The cow's eyes bulged as he stepped back and swung his head around, searching for the fabled monster bee. Seriously, where was this bitch? He'd crush it and eat it. Actually that was gross. He'd probably stomp it. Actually that was even worse, what if it stung him? Okay no. He'd look at it, give it a good long stare, and then run away. Let the hyena and the dribbling baby take care of it. That sounded about right. Caravaggio nervously lashed his tail as he searched for the monster bee, only to come to the conclusion that it wasn't there. He had every mind to turn to the child and scold her for telling lies, but when he turned back to them, the hyena had suddenly looked his way.

Then she, too, yelped and fell backwards, joining the child in her puddle of refuse. Of course he was startled by this entire chain of events, and so Caravaggio jumped backwards another step, all nerves on end. "Wha- sneaking up?! I've been here the whole time!" He gasped, incredulous, unbelieving. Did she really not know he was there? He was there, like, literally the whole time, watching, taking her advice even! "You must be deaf." The cow reasoned and snorted, idly scuffing his hoof on the ground.