Czernobog peered up at Dragon, head tilting to one side as if attempting to understand his words. Rest? Before the thought could develop into anything more profound, the alligator was turning away, and the piglet hurried to follow him, scrambling out of the fetid pit with a squeal. Boat! It trotted along beside the reptile, snorting and grunting as they traveled, but slowed to a halt when the singer glanced back.

Taking the opening, the tiny boar hopped up onto Dragon's back one again, sniffing at the alligator's back, squeals accompanied by the gentle tip tap of hooves on scales. It seemed to take the hog this long to comprehend that the alligator had been trying to see if its name was, indeed, its name. Nodding, the piglet rumbled out a shorter "Czernoooooobog," apparently delighted by the ability to speak - even if it was just one word.

Rest. Place. A place to rest? That sounded fine by the beast, and it happily settled in, curling up in the middle of its boat's back, watching Cetus pass by.

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Dragon snorted with faint amusement.

"Yes. Bog," he agreed, shortening the piglet's name to something that seemed easier. And more appropriate, he thought, given the circumstances. The marsh.

Dragon clambered along, sometimes swimming through shallow black channels of nearly-stagnant swamp water, sometimes dragging his way through thick weeds and grass, pushing them aside to plow a passageway through. He passed by a den of cave rats--a den that had once posed a serious threat to his tiny hatchling life, but which was now merely a source of snacks. Quiet skittering and the glint of baleful, staring eyes marked their passing.

Soon enough he reached the cliff ledges at the far end of Cetus--and here, he began to climb. He did this slowly and methodically, knowing the area well, keeping to a path that offered a relatively stable, smooth way up. Once or twice he has to lean out over gaps or haul himself up ledges.

I wonder if Bog would have an easier time, what with these little hooves, and all...?

Dragon dismissed the thought; as it was, he was the "ledge" that the boar was climbing.

The "boat" ascended, eventually reaching a broad, long, smooth ledge that leaned up and out over Cetus. Above an orb-light dangled, bathing the rock in warm, bright light. Dragon turned, dragging himself until his snout was at the edge, lowering himself down with a contented growling grunt.

"Careful. Don't fall." Then the alligator--probably boring by the, well, boar's standards--simply lay there, feet tingling and warming as he tried, by habit, to call upon his fiery magic to add to the blossoming warmth of the rock.

A few moments passed and the rock was sufficiently warm, in fact rather toasty and smooth and comfortable, and the contented alligator just lounged there, curious to see if the boar would likewise wish to bask.

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The piglet squeaked in agreement, apparently accepting the nickname. It stared as the world passed by, flinching back at first when the rat's nest came into view, before grunting back, the sound almost a growl, baring tiny tusks at the creatures. When the boat reached the cliffs, Czernobog hung on with a chorus of happy squeals, staring at the cliffs in wonder. Obviously it had been born into the best place there was - dark water, fog all around, hearty pools of rotted meat, and now places to climb? It was a boar's dream come true!

Whether ignoring the alligator's words or simply not understanding them, the piglet trotted off of Dragon's back with a pleased grunt, walking to the cliff's edge and peering over curiously. Still, it retreated back to its singer after a few dangerous moments, snorting at the reptile. Boat? Perhaps this was the resting place he'd spoken of?

With a dull thump, the baby boar sat back on its rump, staring out into Cetus with a tiny sigh. A few more moments, and Czernobog was slumping down, until finally he flopped over onto its side, back nudging up against the alligator as if to assure that Dragon was still here. The warmth on the rock made it easy to relax, and after a moment, the piglet felt a sort of... pull. Cracking open an eye, it sniffed, gaze landing on a single sprig of weed, which had managed to grow even here, on the unforgiving cliffs.

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And just like that, the tiny weed moved. Not a lot, only a smidgen, but it nudged just the same, and Czernobog gave an excited grunt, willing it to move again. It did, and slowly, the weed moved to his hoof, roots transferring into the thin skin, burying into fat and muscle. If it hurt, the boar didn't seem to mind, staring as the process ended with a tiny sprout of the weed sticking up from his front left leg.

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Blank-eyed crocodilian gaze half-turned to regard the piglet as the surge of magic was detected.

Well, "surge" was a strong word, for something so small. The trickle of magic, then. Dragon watched, barely breathing, as the piglet did... something? What did he do? He could feel the magic, but he didn't notice the result. He let out a soft hiss-huff.

"What did you do, Bog?" It was a quiet voice, quiet words, not accusatory but curious, almost gentle or even supportive, the way a parent might ask their child what it was they'd just drawn or scribbled on a scrap of paper. The alligator watched Czernobog but couldn't see anything different.

He lowered his chin back to the warm rock, watching the boar, wondering what type of magic he had.

Would it be fire, like his? Oh, he'd be so proud. But then, his brothers didn't have fire, no. Baratheon had some sort of... of blasting-power, and Ghanyarah, ice, cold as winter frost.

Cold as that stupid ice tunnel.

The wry thought flitted through his mind and he let out the softest snort of amusement, barely a puff of air. His thick tail slowly slithered along the rock, curving from one U shape to the other, so that its wave wrapped halfway around and below the piglet along the ledge. Obviously the little guy was going to be a troublemaker, going right to the cliff's edge after Dragon had warned him to be careful--but he didn't mind. He'd protect him, guide him if he could, and if Bog insisted on taking risks--well, it was his life, wasn't it? ...Though, did that matter, if the little guy couldn't even understand speech?

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The piglet snorted, eyeing Dragon for a moment, before seeming to understand at least part of what the alligator was asking. With a grunt, Czernobog rolled onto its back, waving its left leg, the tiny sprout of weed flopping about with the motion. Helper! With a happy snort, the boar rolled back to all fours, leaning down to nibble at the weed. Helper food? Soon the tiny plant was nothing more than a short sprout, sticking up out of the newborn's skin like a tiny green splinter.

How it had managed to make the little plant move, Czernobog had no idea, but it pranced in a tight circle, obviously proud of the display. With a happy snort, the piglet sat back on its haunches, against the u-shape the alligator's tail had created. Focusing, the little black ball of fluff and teeth tried to pull on the connection again, though there didn't seem to be any plant life particularly nearby...

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There! A strange tug at the edge of the pig's senses, and it watched as the ground before its hooves was pierced by a tiny sprout. With an excited squeal the tiny boar leaned to snuffle at the plant, grunting in surprise when it leaned closer, closer, closer, roots slowly transferring to the newborn's cheek, roots implanting themselves just below its right eye, another hint of green against the grey of its pelt.

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Dragon watched the boar piglet wriggling and flopping; he snorted softly as it bumped back against his tail. But then, it did... something... and he felt the faintest pull of magic once again.

His reptilian eyes widened, his broad head swinging closer to get a better look, tilting to one side.

Did he just... grow that?

Dragon thought, quickly, running over what knowledge he held in his mind. Had he ever seen a plant grow that fast? No. And anyway, he'd felt the magic. Felt it. Did he know any Gembound who could--what, magically grow plants?

He thought about it, for a time, but he didn't think so. At least, not that he could remember. He wasn't sure.

He wondered whether, if Eve were here, and if she had tested this piglet, if the pig would prove magical and would glow? Dragon leaned closer, sniffing faintly at the boar.

"You grow things," he at last surmised, softly. Then he nodded, and chuckled. He knew that Czernobog likely couldn't understand him, yet, but he rambled on anyway, like a grandfather to a toddler. "There are spiders down below these ledges, you know--huge spiders, as big as me--or as big as I was a month ago," he corrected himself.

"They wound webs around their prey. I bet, with practice, you could do that with vines, or roots. I had to burn them away," he added, "like this."

Dragon turned his head to face out over the ledge, toward the thin dark air over Cetus and the drizzling mist beyond, and launched a guttering blast of incinerating flame out into nothingness. It flickered and roared, hissing with a shimmer and a strike of heat, and then abruptly faded.

The alligator closed his jaws, turning to look at the boar. "They would have killed me, otherwise, I think. And eaten me. The wrapping was very powerful. Very strong. It could be a good trick to learn."

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You grow things. The piglet snorted in agreement, tiny hooves tip-tapping on the hard packed earth of the cliffs. The boar huffed as the rest of the alligator's words washed over him, and shook his head, uncomprehending. What it could make out had something to do with the tiny helpers he'd summoned, but how to do anything close to what the reptile was saying escaped him. Still, the singer's voice was low, soothing, and soon Czernobog's eyes were blinking heavily, soft grunts turning into happy snorts, tail wagging gently.

The spell was broken when the alligator turned his head, breathing out a plume of bright heat. Bad! Bad! The boar squealed, taken off guard, hopping up to all fours and baring his fangs at the fireball as it vanished, as if the spell was sentient in and of itself. When nothing remained in the sky, it turned back to Dragon, grunting and snuffling as if to check that the scaly creature was alright. Boat okay. Satisfied, the newborn sat back on its haunches, tilting its fluffy black head to one side as it listened.

Wrap trick? Curiosity sparked in light brown eyes, and he snuffled at the plants having taken hold in his leg and face. Helpers... wrap? Eyeing the sprouts disbelievingly, it turned back to Dragon with a confused grunt. "Churrrrrrrn?"

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Dragon peered at the piglet as he squealed, and let out a soft and good-natured throaty chuckle. Then he slowly lay his head back on the stone ledge, jaws gaping wide, as if providing a safe haven for the piglet--or reassurance that dad's big teeth were close by.

Or maybe he was just giving off heat through his mouth while sunning.

Nevertheless he was still and motionless for a time, thinking.

He definitely can't speak. Not yet. It'll be hard to explain to him what I mean. Maybe I can take him down, later, and show him the spiders.

For now, though, Dragon just slowly closed his mouth and then gently moved to nudge toward Czernobog. He then quickly pulled his head back away, eyeing the piglet--then repeated the gesture, as if offering a strange game that was somewhere between tag and peekaboo. He seemed to expect the piglet to chase his head, but it wasn't like Dragon was going very far.

Maybe, for once, he just felt a little playful; that, and he was aiming to distract the poor little marsh-brother from the accidental terror he'd just inflicted on it.

He even felt bad. A tiny bit.

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The piglet peered at his singer's teeth with wide eyes, snuffling at the alligator's gaping mouth curiously. It didn't feel any fear, however, no matter how dangerous the reptile could be - Czernobog was confident that he wouldn't hurt the little boar, especially after saving him from the chrysalis. After a moment, he tried to mimic the 'boat', jaw dropping open to reveal pearly whites - and two agate tusks, barely noticeable now, but promising to become menacing weapons with age. The boar snapped its mouth shut when Dragon did, huffing at the strange dry sensation the open air left behind.

At the nudge, the pig let out a startled oink, turning to stare at the reptile in confusion. Then, it happened again - and Czernobog dropped his front half forward, tail wagging wildly, a series of short playful grunts answering the call to action. The little creature chased Dragon's head back and forth, grunting and huffing, occasionally tapping at his chin with a fluffy black forehead. The odd game seemed to rev the boar up with energy, and after a while it began to bob up and down during the chase, hooves beating out an erratic pattern on the ground, the two sprouts growing in his skin swaying in the breeze.

Boat friend, Czernobog thought. The idea was strange, at least for a something like him - a monster in the making, destined to become a killer, the thrill of the hunt driving his actions more than anything else, be it loyalty, love or hate. Still, the alligator had saved it, let it free into the world... if there was anything closer to family, the little boar had no inkling of it, and determined to stick close to the reptile - at least, as long as Dragon let him.

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Alligators do not smile. They often appear to smile--something like dolphins--with a permanent curve to their broad, shoe-like faces. Or boat-like, apparently, to certain little boar.

If alligators could smile, doubtless Dragon would be. He often felt very little, in the way of social emotion: he felt fear when in danger, predatory hunger when faced with prey, determination when set against adversity, and fierce curiosity when shown something new and strange. He even felt loyalty, of a vague, brotherly sense, toward Ghanyarah and toward Baratheon, his "brothers."

But family bonds? True family bonds? He'd never felt that, before. Maybe this wasn't even a family thing. But it felt like it was. Dragon felt like every fatherly alligator that ever helped a youngster from its egg and carried it gently to the water; like every contented gator parent resting basking with its young safely in its jaws.

If alligators could smile, Dragon would have been smiling.

But dolphin smiles are only curved jaws; and crocodile tears are only salt-equalizing optic lubricant, and so Dragon did not smile. Instead, he turned his head, eyes half-closed and slowly blinking, shuffling slightly closer to the piglet after a long period of bounding play.

Bog was so energetic and enthusiastic--so fierce, as he had been, as a hatchling--that he could not help but feel fond. Of course, it probably influenced him just a little that he'd been the one to break the little boar free, but Dragon didn't know that.

"Rest, now," Dragon quietly rumbled. He wasn't sure if Bog understood, but it didn't hurt, he supposed, to vocalize his thoughts anyway. Maybe he'd understand the tone, or learn words as they went.

"I'll teach you how to hunt later, if you want."

He closed his eyes to demonstrate, closing his maw and laying his jaws down on the warm, smooth rock. He hoped that the plant-hosting little boar would follow suit.

Dragon didn't know, of course, that wild boar weren't primarily carnivorous. If he had, he might have stopped to wonder what sort of monster he was creating. But all he knew was that his new "son" ate meat--and thus, he would, in time, show him how to catch and kill it.

For now, though, it was time to sleep.

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