At first, Mother's soothing greeting would be near-wordless. When Yellow had first taken her Gift from Pallas, Her voice had been faint, distant. It had been a murmur of emotion, a tantalizing whisper. Over the last cycle and a bit, it had strengthened: periodically the ever-present (and ever-stronger) presence in the back of Yellow's mind had begun to offer guidance, or approval, or warning.

When they had found trouble in transporting their gifts back to Ursa, Mother's voice had been a little clearer: she had met the idea of Yellow's return with warmth, and offered her servants to carry both they and the gifts, if desired. The gift of banana was met with gratitude from the bats, and warm approval from Mother herself.

Yellow was offered shelter, of course--food if needed, or the company of a Woolly Deer who shared Mother's Gift and a warm pelt. But still, though Yellow was brought into the tunnels, they were not allowed to venture farther in--they were given only the cold, empty outer reaches of the tunnels in which to wander. Only now, a couple days after their arrival, when a full two cycles had passed from the day of their infection--and Mother's hold on Yellow was at last iron-clad--did her voice come again and offer something... more.

"Yellow," came this voice, purring through their mind in a moment of respite, "would you like to visit me in person?" There was no urgency to it. There wasn't even any need, really. Their bond now was unbreakable, strong; they were family forever.

But the offer... if Yellow wanted it... was there.

"I will send you an escort," and these words--trilling through Yellow's mind--were rife with love, with warmth, with pleasure that her child had accepted such an invitation!

The Praetor that arrived came slowly, clicks of feet on floor, dipping down to allow its rider to clamber on board. "This one will carry you," Mother assured.

There was no sign of a gemstone on this one--but the glassy carapace held glints of light within, like chips of bright mica. Was it ice? Was one of those, perhaps, a stone? Or maybe the white webbing, stranded through the body, was a gemstone--or the entire carapace, itself? It was difficult to tell, but the creature was cold to the touch, and moved with insectoid precision.

The path would be a long one--an hour or more's delving into the depths, curling deeper through the tunnels and farther out toward Ursa's edges. More than once the Praetor doubled back as it travelled, or squeezed down abandoned-looking and -smelling side tunnels only just wide enough to allow it passage. And more than once, they passed other Praetors--standing guard, or seeming to wait in side-tunnels for Yellow to pass by so they could continue their own travels and duties.

They did not pass any of the eerie statues: perhaps none had been created this far down, however they'd been made.

At last, however, the tunnel curved up, a little--Mother's warmth, and her excitement, swelling along the link. They passed a pair of Praetors, and another, and a third; and at last Yellow's mighty steed swept into a cave at the very end.

It was large--webbed top to bottom, side to side, with white. It was pulsating with fungus, too, and an immense creature--some double a Praetor's size, if not more--lay throbbing at its center. This ugly beautiful and unnatural divine creature was Mother: insectoid but swathed in the silks of her fungus, crowed with the pale light of stones strung along the ceiling, surrounded by her Cleaners and her Praetors.

This room was perfectly symmetrical, and ringed with honeycombed holes--a Cleaner at each side was busy making symmetrical new divots in the rock. Already, many were webbed off, or pulsating with growing, new life--capped with ice or transparent stone, or something similar.

But through it all there was that sense of love, of warmth, and Mother greeted Yellow sweetly--with a voice, and a clicking of mandibles, along with the swell of emotion in their mind (a flood of chemicals to assure them they were loved). "My child... at last, we meet. Tell me: are you happy here?" she asked, worry flickering mind-to-mind.

Mother wanted her children to be happy, of course.