Bones was quiet for a few beats. "Justice," he repeated quietly to himself, but he did not comment further on the numbat's words. He only hoped he had done nothing to hurt them, not particularly for his own sake, but for theirs. Bones wasn't too sure if he could forgive himself if he hurt Booker, at the very least.

He watched for a moment, ears still flat against his skull. "You weren't weak," he said. "Seeing good in someone who did bad things, being able to forgive what they did and give them new chances to prove themselves is something not a lot of people can do and it takes a strong person to put up with that." Bones could imagine that, by now, Priest didn't want to hear much of these words anyway. He stopped while he was at it regardless, but his ears flickered slightly.

"None of us are made for anyone," his tone was more confident than it had been previously. "Nobody is a half looking for their other half, nobody is defined by the people they hang around or choose to love." He paused.

"I don't know if that makes sense," he grumbled. It was a hard thing for him to explain, but it was important nonetheless. He decided to drop it shortly afterward anyway - he didn't want to end up crying in front of this sort-of-new-person.

As he dug, a lopsided smile pulled at his lips, shining eyes flickering up to the numbat. The reveal of a sense of humour was something Bones felt was much needed now; his tail began to bat to and fro as dirt shovelled under him. "It'd be fun to say anything to anyone," he said, readjusting himself. "But I imagine death to be freeing. I haven't seen spirits in Canis before."

As he scrambled out of the hole he watched Priest for a moment longer, tail still wagging. "I used to carry a bone around," he said, still grinning. "I sleep with them, my mother uses them to see things. I suppose calling somebody 'Bones' in Canis is like calling somebody 'Tree' in Eridanus, because of how abudant they are and how often they're used for survival and stuff."

As the numbat scrambled up his face and perched like a head Bones stumbled back up. "She seems nice," he mentioned in regards to Dovefeather. The way to the Eyes wasn't so far, and he supposed that the more 'graves' he upturned the more it would prove that Bones was, in fact, not dead.

"You never met her," he finished sadly, sniffing and hounding around tree trunks. "My mother, she is... broken." The words hurt. He missed how Giggle used to be, collective and level-headed. Now she spent her days babbling incoherently, speaking without a filter or a second thought.

"She went missing for a long time, and when she came back she was broken. She's not the same and I don't know if she ever will be again, but she's.. adjusting. My brother is alright. He had a kid, recently-- a lovely little kid named Scarborough. I think you'd like him."

He stepped over the roots of trees carefully, being sure not to knock the numbat off his head by accident. "Grandfather is the same as usual, though." His ears flickered either side of the tiny gembound. "Harvesting more children, though Caves know why. I don't see the point in having so many. There's never enough rats to feed all of us in Canis anyway."

Feeling as though he may be rambling, they reached the Eyes shortly after he decided to stop talking. "Here," he said, approaching one pool and peering in. "This is where you buried someone, right?" He turned his head, now, to look over at the other eye, then down at the ground.

He lowered his head, sniffing for a moment, and then rested it flat against the ground, offering the numbat the chance to get off if he wanted to. He couldn't smell any death here, either - and certainly not the scent of a cold life stone. "How often do you leave Eridanus?"

His ears lifted. It was strange, but he knew - the change in his voice, the way he said his words. The gentle touch of the numbat against his face. Priest had retreated someplace else, and now it was Booker that sat atop his head. The words he wanted to say choked up in his throat - words that would have to wait until a more appropriate time. "Hi," was all he managed to croak out.

He walked a while longer, quiet. Contentedness began to fill his belly regardless of the situation, why he was taking Booker to the Eyes. "You give them the chance to redeem themselves," he said eventually. "It's not your fault if they decide to decline the offer of being a better person." He tried to look up, but he could only really see the edge of the numbat's tiny nails and his nose. His ears flickered idly, looking back at the path as he limped carefully along. "I'm not much, Booker. I'm just a painter."

Bones had already decided, albeit to himself, that he wouldn't mind it either. He wouldn't mind lazing with Booker by his side, absent-mindedly marking the walls while getting opinions from the numbat. Maybe he would join, create small but detailed paintings with small claws. The dog passed a glance at the gembound's webbed fingers. Maybe not, said a voice in the back of his head.

"Azazel," he said fondly. "That's my grandfather, yes." His tail flickered, but he focused mostly on keeping his head kept relatively still. "He has a lot of children, adopted and from blood alike. I'm not sure why."

"Dove is a good person," he replied confidently, hobbling over a stray root. "It's good that you know people who understand and want to look out for you, and it's good to keep family close - even if it is small in comparison to all the aunts and uncles I've gained over the last while."

"Besides," Bones said, with a good-natured tone of humour. "Dove isn't small enough to be your little sister." His tail was still flicking, lightly swaying left and right. The feeling of contentedness continued to bubble in his gut and for a few moments he forgot about his aching legs.

His tail came to a slow stop however, as he came to think about Giggle again. "We're trying to help her the best we can," he said quietly. "I don't know what she went through but we're trying. It's been hard on all of us, but especially her. I don't know if she'll get better but it won't stop her from being my mom, you know?" He paused for a moment, a sigh leaving his nostrils.

The happiness began to melt away and it was left with solemn regret. He probably could have been a better son to her, all things considered - but he knew he was right. Giggle would always be his mother and that meant he would always be looking out for her. It took him a moment to realise the numbat was touching his ears, and he batted them playfully at him before he continued moving on. It's alright, the guesture said.

"You'd like him," he said moments later. "Scarb and Kerb. Kerby has three new faces you you." He grinned upwards to Booker, and then they came to the Eyes. He watched the numbat hobble forth onto his snout and he adjusted his head for a moment or so, to make sure he wouldn't fall.

"Do you remember exactly where she was?" he asked carefully, ears high. He recalled the smooth stone he had for Booker and his tail began to lash somewhat again. "I don't remember her, but she sounds like a good person. I'm making you something right now, but she'll have to take the prize of being the first person to give you something."

As he lay down, Booker didn't move. He opened his maw for a moment to tell Booker that he knew he wouldn't but he stopped. The numbat's words hit him like a kick in the gut. He watched Booker with wide eyes, silent. He wanted to ask why, after what Baratheon had done, did he trust him to keep him safe.

Instead, he nodded.

The dog lifted himself back up to his paws. "I'll keep you safe," he said quietly and he began to circle the clear pools, searching for where the ground, to him, look the most disturbed.

He paused, ears flickering briefly. "Here?" he asked quietly, pawing at the ground gently. "You don't have to watch, but I don't smell anything here."

Bones knew that perhaps he was being a little... fast, with proving that Booker hadn't seen him, his friends and his family die. The same second the numbat opened his mouth was the same second Bones moved his paws and turned, limping away from the Eyes. Attempts at an apology were caught in his throat and came loose as a croak instead of a sentence.

Booker was right. Bones wanted to think on it for a while, but he was right and therefore there was nothing to actually think on. Even if everyone was alive it didn't change that he had those memories - it didn't change that he tried his best to repress them and it didn't change the fact Bones was forcing them back up again.

He felt like an asshole.

It was now he realised his aching legs, wandering around trees and roots almost drunkenly, swaying but trying his best to keep his head still in fear of accidentally knocking Booker off. He propped his scarred back against a tree and slowly slid down onto his belly, ears flat against his skull.

He was quiet for a few beats longer, trying to angle his snout up towards the numbat and nuzzle him in a wordless apology. No matter what they found it didn't change that, just like his mother, Booker was broken and he needed support. His ears flicked as his muzzle eventually found the numbat and he pressed his nose gently against his tiny chest.

He was changing the subject. It was a welcomed change, at least.

"A war," the dog echoed. "I don't remember a war ever being mentioned, but my memory is starting to fail me." Bones seemed to think, ears flicking. "I suppose it depends on how long ago it was, but it would explain why we keep Kerby guarding the tunnel into Canis."

He chuckled. It only maintained a fraction of the humour he had before. "Yeah, speaking of him," he said, tail thumping slowly but hollowly off the floor. "Kerberos is good, but he gets confused sometimes. Someone's told him to 'smooch' rats instead of killing them when he hunts." Canis was running out of rats as it was - so perhaps it was a good thing, especially since Kerberos had the biggest appetite out of all of the Bonebound combined.

"The heads are easy to get on with," he said. "They're all the same person, so it just means there's a whole lot more slobber when you say hello to them. I think he'd like you."

He tilted his head. He could only hope, at least, but he was sure that if he explained to Kerberos that Booker wasn't food, he would understand. "It is strange, though. That Grandpa wouldn't ever mention a war." He snorted, blowing hot air into the numbat's fur."Maybe he was keeping it a secret."

He watched Booker through amber eyes for a moment. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, things that built up in his throat but then stopped and refused to go any further, but Bones was sure by now it was himself holding them back. The only thing that managed to escape were a soft "Booker, I..." but that was it. He cut himself off once more with a tight jaw, eyes half-closing.

He breathed in, practically tasting the scent of fungal stink, a smell he had grown too used to now. He very lightly bumped Booker's chest with his nose before he raised his head once more and looked around with over-sized ears pricked high. He watched for a moment, as though afraid Baratheon himself were going to show up.

"Do you ever feel like you can't find the right words to describe someone?" the question came at random - but to him, it made perfect sense. It was a lighter subject than finding Booker's dead friends in the ground, after all.

Dovefeather's paws carried her away from the newborn child, back towards the Eyes. Her home, where she had been born, where her nest lay filled with stones and gifts, gentle and quiet by the still, clear waters. The All Mother would greet her in her reflection, murmuring words that the kitten could never hear. She would See, perhaps, but part of her nearly wanted to shy away.

The sound of conversation caught her ears and she froze, her quiet buzzing turning into deathly silence. Eridanus wasn't safe anymore-- not since the Elephant and her trophies, nor the Wolf who claimed Leadership with blood on her paws-- and without knowing where Cayenne nor Basil were, there wasn't much to be done.

The feline darted up the nearest tree, clutching to the lowest hanging branch as she craned her head to hear, wanting to locate the source without giving away her own location by shaking leaves. Alarm spread through her as she thought she recognized the voice saying her brother's original, birth-born name. Booker. She had known him more recently as Barnett, but she hardly kept track. He was her Brother, and that was all that usually mattered.

"Do you ever feel like you can't find the right words to describe someone?"
The voice asked, Dovefeather's face screwing up as she tried to place it. She knew the voice, true, but it had been so long since she had heard it, and the cat knew many names. She was known for seeing, not for hearing, and she preferred to live in the present.

With a question like that, however, she found herself lunging to the next branch, scrambling across the treetops towards the conversation until she saw the pair down on the ground. Immediately she recognized the dog by sight: Giggle's son, the one who had come before, when she had been sick and angry, desperate to get her feather back from the vile Fang.

It had been a long, long time. The question Bones had asked rattled around in her mind, and the choked feeling in her throat threatened her to tears. She fought it back, suppressing the thoughts that rose to her mind.

It made it hard for her to come up with a name, regardless. She screwed her eyes shut and forced a purr into her chest, mentally shaking off her emotions. "Brother!" She yowled down to them, rising to her full height on her branch, tail held high. Her face was lit up by the glow of her mourning dove feather, casting shadows on to the pair of owl and crow feather on the other side.

"The All Mother knew I was looking for you," she announced, purr on full roaring beehive mode. "Guided you right into me, you and... Your friend..." Pale, shimmering buttercup eyes shifted across the canine, trying to summon his name to the front of her mind.

Alas, All Mother could guide her to her brother all She like, but she would always be deaf to Her words.

Seven cycles ago. It felt so much longer; but that was a long time in itself. He watched Booker for a moment before a gentle snort left his nostrils. "What do you intend to do with them?" he asked. He had never met another Merrymen member, but he imagined something along the same size of Baratheon, if they were able to take control of him.

His ears flicked good-naturedly. "It gives them a life experience to talk about to their friends, though," he said with a lopsided grin. He didn't quite understand Booker and the others seemingly living within him, but he didn't quite understand Kerberos instead. "I think so." The words were uncertain.

"You could ask him," he mentioned. "It's about time you met my family anyway, right?" His tail hammered off the ground briefly, he nodded sluggishly before he looked directly upwards. There was a slight rustle that came from the branches above.

Almost immediately Bones half-sprang to his paws, moving so that the numbat was under him. although his front paws were on the ground, one of his back legs lay limply behind him but it didn't stop Bones from curling his lip back, a low growl forming in his throat. The fur on his back - or what was left of it - stood on edge as his ears flattened hard against his skull.

He was still snarling; leg moving uselessly behind him as he tried to position himself in a stance appropriate for getting ready to defend the tiny gembound under him if need be. Even as the numbat spoke, the growl rumbling in Bones' mouth did not cease until he felt the gentle touch of a webbed paw touching his leg.

His movements were almost like melting, back legs painfully moving back into place and the rest of his body soon followed, features relaxing once more as he lay on his belly. "Dove," he said, voice somewhat hoarse. "You were with my mother and her bones, the last time I saw you. How are you?"

He knew the cat wasn't a threat. Giggle trusted her, though he wasn't sure if she still would. Regardless, his head rested on the ground of Eridanus once more, any previous signs of alert and aggression completely sinking back into his mottled coat.

Immediately the pair went on the offensive at the noise of branches creaking and leaves ruffling, and Dovefeather wasn't remotely phased. The caves had been tainted, poisoned deep into the wells, ever since the All Mother's Eyes were wounded. Things hadn't been the cheerful, hopeful childhood they had once known in a painfully long time.

The cat simply tilted her head, making her purr even louder until they located her and relaxed at the sight of a familiar face. Her brother immediately introduced Bones, and the name clicked into place instantly. A thought shook through the feline that made herself feel sick, and she turned away from them to figure a way down the tree.

With practiced ease, the cat scampered down the branched, bounced from the tree trunk to a large fern, and then landed neatly before the pair, eye golden eyes glistening as she observed the two, ears twitching at the questions.

"How I am is of little consequence. Is Canis safe?"

The question came sharply from her tongue, and although she held a softness to her stance and a loud, rumbling chest of humming bees, there was a vicious seriousness to her stare.

"The All Mother's garden is no longer safe. A monster came and killed Blackfeather... I was returning to Her Eyes to gather my possessions and our sisters' remaining stones."

The moment of tension in her vision faded and she blinked slowly, a wary, tired smile gracing her muzzle with the twitch of her whiskers.

"Brother, have you seen Cayenne, or... Or, Basil? I think Cay went to Polaris, but..."

She couldn't remember if he even knew of the aardwolf, but she was certain she had mentioned the canine before. Abruptly she realized she was shaking, her muscles quivering from some form of exhaustion brought on by her overwhelming worry. She tried to hold herself high and proud, but it was all crashing down on her suddenly.

Dovefeather wasn't sure how much more she could bare to lose.