...Sniff bones? That, again. What. Why?

Giggle stared, for a moment, nonplussed. Why would she lie about Dragon sending her? And if they did, why did they..? The Children of Rot had long been the Bonebound's allies. Unless it was a distraction for a real attack..? Giggle sent a warning to Omen--Keep watch, Sister-Daughter--make sure nothing is coming, she warned, and there was some confusion in it.

She thought, briefly, over how the hell to handle this. On the one hand, she probably could just maim or kill the chicken and be done with it--she'd threatened the Bonebound more than once, though why, Giggle couldn't fathom. And she was fairly difficult to reason with. Plus, she wasn't making much sense.

But Giggle had also talked other, more violent creatures down before. More dangerous, to clarify--though she hadn't succeeded with all of them.

Giggle again glanced at her bleeding wounds, and then, eyes narrowed, to Kalama's goopy feet. She realized that a talon on each foot was larger, hooked--Bastard. That explains that. No wonder the cuts were so damn deep.

"And did the Children of Rot say you had to kill me-? " she pried. "You can always just tell them that you won. You've scratched me up, for sure," she added, dourly. "But you can't just go around killing other Gembound, chicken. They have lives, and kids, and it's wrong." Her tone was almost patient--she'd met too damn many Gembound who'd just never heard this growing up. Maybe Kalama just... didn't know.

More likely, she wouldn't care.

"Anyway, I see the future in the bones, I don't sniff them, and if you kill me you'll never know your future." A spark of inspiration. Would it work? Probably not. Worth a try, though. "I can read the bones, if you want, but you have to promise not to harm any Bonebound members."

"If you keep it up, though, well..." She turned, and glanced to the fungus all around her, picking the carrion-scented red ones. They didn't do anything, really, but they smelled rotten as all hell--though maybe the chicken couldn't smell them. It didn't matter--appearances did.

It wasn't... a grand display, as she'd hoped (and what was with her magic today?) but a small crop of the red fungus did spread and raise over the nearby rock. "I can grow that on anything. But it's a very painful way to die, and I'd rather not," she added.

...Granted, it would take days for the actual rot-fungus to kill someone; and the others, though very painful to have sprouting through your skin, weren't actually fatal. But Kalama didn't need to know that. She just hoped that the ominous nature of her message wasn't betrayed by the blood still dripping to the rock beneath her.

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The backfired infection began to itch, as Kalama spoke.

As the chicken continued--babbling this way and that--Giggle hardly heard her, because it had begun to burn. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she thought to herself, half-frantic; she'd never had the flesh-eating stuff on her, before. Bones, it was new, even to her!

A surge of magicka and she'd forced the worst of it out... but the stuff was tenacious, she knew. She'd have to work on it, diligently--possibly for days. Still, the burning subsided as a few miniscule fungal clots fell out with her blood, and she glanced dourly, and resentfully, at Kalama. This alone was enough for her to want to bite the bitch, but it was her own damn backfired magic...

With a growl she turned, stalking to the pit.

"Clean yourself up, and I will. But know this: I never lie about what the bones say. If they say something shit, something you don't like, well, tough; and they're always right. But I'll try to find alternatives, ways to... fix things, if you don't like the answers you get." Giggle hadn't really noticed the lack of agreement to her offer; she was too busy internally cursing the fungus, the pain, the blood, hoping the chicken got the hell out of here and left her in peace without escalating this any further. A quick mental check with Omen told her that the Children of Rot were not, at least, currently rushing through Tunnel K in an ambush, so that was... good.

Giggle tugged out a small tuft of fur with her incisors, dropping it. "Take that, if you want my fur," she snapped. She could always ask Omen--or the spores--to find out who the hell Kalama was delivering to.

The ragged, bloodied hyena stared dourly into her pit, spiteful as she tried to pick out a bone that matched the chicken, for a reading. Her heart wasn't really in this, for obvious reasons; it was a ploy more than anything, but she always took the task seriously (she saw herself as a conduit for the bones, for the spirits; it wasn't her place to deny any actual wisdom they might offer). She was tempted to angrily snatch a small, thin, frail bone, but after a moment she picked a hooked talon of some kind--slender, yes, not very large but hardly weak. It fit, having seen Kalama's stupid foot-knives...

Giggle picked this up in her teeth, glancing balefully at the chicken before lurching into a trot that would take her up to the top of the ledge--and there she set the bone down, sighing. "Right, I'm going to do the reading now. You wanna know about your future, you said? Whether you lead a--a war-band?" Her eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in faint curiosity and confusion; a warband for... what? Who would they even fight-?

Shit-cats, I hope, she thought to herself with sour annoyance.

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Normally, Giggle would be more than averse to handing off bones from the pit. They were, in a sense, sacred: guides from those who had already passed, a direct link to the long-dead, to the magic of the world.

Yet she'd picked this one almost in malice, to suit Kalama, and something about the unintentional hilarity of it (despite the pain in her aching, bleeding flank) left her relatively good-natured about it. Yes, this bone could go to the chicken; the bones didn't rail or warn her against that. Hell, maybe it was meant to be. Still, this could be a good time for another lesson--if the chicken would have it.

Putting on her most patient, motherly tone, Giggle spoke from atop her ledge. "When Gembound speak to one another, we try to treat them as we want to be treated. That means saying please, for something you want; and thank you afterward. I'd be glad to give you my bone, as you ask, if you say please to respect what I'm giving up for you," the old hyena said. Maybe it'd take, and Kalama would learn something.

Or maybe the chicken would sneer and argue.

Giggle really had no idea, but she gave it a moment to sink in nonetheless, before going on. "Right. Let's do this reading, now." A thought occurred to her, then: if Kalama didn't believe her intent, her truth, why not show her? Giggle eyed the chicken, concentrating for a moment. Her intention was to show Kalama, to share with her the reading, but...

...Nothing came. In fact, wait-... wait for it--there... a splitting headache came. The hyena cried out, briefly, lifting paws to swipe at her face--perhaps it looked like she'd seen something TERRIBLE in the bones below but in truth, she hadn't even thrown it yet. She had to lay down, for a moment, so bad was the pain, pressing her forehead against cool rock and waiting, ignoring anything Kalama said in favor of quiet panting. When it began to pass, she stood, glancing down with a wincing grimace. "...I'm ready," she managed, hoarsely, without any explanation.

Giggle had a flair for the dramatic... she'd just let Kalama make of that little fuck-up what she would.

After a moment, she picked the bone back up in her jaws, and concentrated, staring down at the pit. Bones, she thought, struggling to concentrate past the still-receding migraine, Kalama here wants to know about her future. She wants, specifically, to run a warband... she wants to know if that lies ahead. She felt more weary, from the pain, less attentive but she felt it was good enough; and so she lobbed the bone down, and she watched how it fell.

And then, when it had at last come to rest, she began to speak. "I see that you are on a journey," she began, slowly, surprise slowly trickling up through her. Whatever she'd expected to see in Kalama's past, she hadn't thought it might be this. "I don't think it's a physical one. You're going to be learning. I see communication, and leadership. Good advice." And was this her own-? Was it too egotistical to wonder that? Giggle gave herself a sort of questioning mental smirk, and then pushed onward. "I see problems in your future, things from your past. Problems based on who you are. On what you are." And that made sense, didn't it... Kalama's primary issue was her own innate violence, her stubbornness, her aggression. "Your anger, maybe. I think that's what'll cause you problems. But the end--now this is interesting. I don't see a... warband, not exactly. Though it could turn into one," she admitted. "What I see, though--is family. Rebirth and... motherhood."

Giggle looked up at Kalama, as if through new eyes. Was this possible..? Could the chicken learn a few new tricks? Mellow with motherhood, after all? Was she truly on a journey that would make her a better person--or was it a case of raising children to form a warband? But no; the bones didn't speak, not really, of violence--or rather, there was no emphasis on it.

Giggle made an abrupt decision, then, watching Kalama thoughtfully. "The bones believe in you. I wonder... if I made you an offer, do you want to hear it?" she asked, curious.

She had... an idea, though credit went to the bones--but she suspected it might be a particularly good one, for both of them.

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Giggle considered Kalama's words very carefully. She took her time in formulating a reply; a single word out of place would put the chicken's back up, ruffle her feathers, and see her gone. And what did Giggle care-? Why bother, at all..? She asked herself this, and then answered in her mind: Because living in ignorance is bad. This chicken's gonna get someone else hurt, and herself, and I'm not doing anything else, right now. Half-wry, half-amused, and then she focused again on her wording.

"My name is Giggle," she said slowly, "and it's about getting what you want without having to fight. Wouldn't you like to be treated with respect-? Everyone would. So 'please' and 'thank you' are just good things, useful things, we use to move through life."

A pause, and she continued, tilting her head. "Or maybe you just like to fight..?" (And Giggle managed, somehow, not to laugh at Kalama's outburst). "If you just like to fight, I think this offer might be just your thing."

Giggle turned, trotting thoughtfully, slowly, down the slope, her eyes lifting to regard the bird as she came. "You're right about the Bonebound in one regard: we aren't a warband. We don't want to fight everyone, because that wouldn't be nice. Beating others up for no reason, even killing them; that's cruel. I wouldn't want to get killed out of nowhere--would you? But fighting-... It would be good if more of us knew how to fight."

Not that Kalama particularly knew. But the bones had spoken, and Giggle would give this a chance. She came to a halt a few yards off, head raising high, ears and eyes and posture all giving Kalama her full, and bleeding, attention. The last of the inky caps were sloughing off, sliding away, drying out; the hyena's gaze was uninterrupted.

"What would you say about joining the Bonebound, as a combat trainer? To train our young ones in the art of fighting?" she asked, and her head tilted a little to one side as she regarded her. "You'd need to follow our rules, but I'm sure you are strong enough to manage that..?" she added, hoping the little twinge of manipulation would work her way. "Those would be simple enough anyway. Not to attack others without reason, just to keep the fighting to training, sparring, hunting. I'm sure we could teach you what we know, too," she added, "in case you find anything useful in it. But it'd be a lot of responsibility..."

Giggle trailed off, her head tilting thoughtfully. "Taking a child under your wing, and teaching it to fight? So that the Bonebound as a whole grow stronger? You'd be a part of our family. Our... War-teacher," she said, hesitating--"-unless you can think of another title you'd want. But I'd have to convince Aure... if you're interested?"

Perhaps it'd give the chicken another direction, in life. A focus to channel that urge to battle. A home, and structure; support. Maybe she'd blossom under it, and learn dignity, and true strength.

Or maybe she'd try to scratch Giggle's eyes out at the offer.

The bones hadn't really specified.

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She waited, patient, curious--hungrily curious about how this would go. And then, Kalama: "Hah! I get it! I knew it! You're all defenseless without me, huh! You need me, don't you? Need me to teach your kids to be better than you at fighting."

Giggle's hyena brows arched a little higher, a sardonic expression briefly crossing her face--more out of surprise than anything. The chicken's ability for self-deception was... amazing, really. Giggle thought, for a moment, deeply in fact, about Kalama's sort of counter-offer--her demand of gold, of a crown or of armor. She lay down--wincing in pain, noting the scent of blood, reminding herself that she'd need to fix herself up soon--and tried to force her attention back to the chicken.

Should she correct her in her assumptions-? If so, how bluntly--how gently? It was Giggle's hope that some social interaction and sense of normalcy, some responsibility, some acceptance, might change Kalama for the better. She didn't want to reject her claims outright. Carefully, then, she replied: "I think it's a good idea for any child to learn from as many sources as they can," she said, slowly, neither confirming nor really denying the chicken's assumptions.

"As for a crown--armor--I have an idea in mind. What about a golden faceplate--something to cover your neck; something with some wicked spikes?" she suggested, eyeing Kalama critically. It was an aesthetic she could already imagine. "I'll agree to that deal, but on one condition: you've got to prove yourself first. Teach at least one of our kids, and I'll see to it personally that you get the finest, uh, gold-helmet-plate-armor that any chicken has ever worn."

Well, that was... a sentence.

"I just have to convince the Bone King, which might not be easy after the way you treated him. But I'll try, if you're still interested," she went on, half-feigning disinterest, glancing around at her fungus. Blood-stained fungus. "Like I said it does mean you'll have to represent us, which means not being too much of an asshole to anyone while you're one of us. We won't ever be a warband who makes war on others, but it'd be nice to be able to kick a warband's ass if it comes for us, yeah?" she tried, head tilting, her dark gaze swinging back to Kalama. "So, I'll talk to Aure about it, if you want--you can even come with me, if you'd like. Follow our guidelines," (if I say 'rules' she'll fucking balk,), "teach our kid, and I'll get you armor and a title among hte Bonebound. Assuming that's what you want?" she asked, for clarity.

Kalama's phrasing had somewhat confused her--she wasn't sure if the chicken wanted to be Bonebound, or not--but that's what Giggs' offer had been, so she waited to see what the bird would have to say.

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