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Black lumbered along beside Fisher, his massive head turning to and fro. His eyes scanned the piles for danger, and he took in the strange sights--he'd never been to canis before, and now he could pick out the differences between this cave, and the others.

There were bones, of course: but he could see tiny gems glinting in some of them, embedded. And he did not recognize any of the bones--not that the dog was any expert on skeletons, but none of them looked familiar whatsoever.

Then, there were the odors: musty, old, dry. The bones--for the most part--were not fresh. But there was a scent of bird here; and something else. He sniffed toward the room's center, where the cave ceiling arced down toward the rocky floor.

"Fresher smells, from that way," he said gruffly, sniffing. He wasn't sure what it was; food? Meat? Simply less-ancient bones? But something that way smelled alive, too, and he was sure that he could smell the distant tang of feathers.

Either way, he was careful to hang close to Fisher, shielding him from a potential ambush. This place was not only strange to him, but it was filled with cover: cover that anything from a cobra to a tiger could leap out from behind at any moment. The stalagmites and piles of rattling bones shifted with dull shadows, darkness pooling here and there, enough to keep Black quite on his toes.

Black pondered why Fisher wanted to know about the odor. Was it friend, or enemy? ...Perhaps he should have asked that, before replying?

"Did you wish to avoid the bird-monster, or to find it?" he asked, turning wrinkled face down toward his friend in ponderous contemplation.

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Bones trotted around in circles. He was bored.

He didn't feel like hunting, or going exploring or even doing art today, but he didn't know what he wanted to do. He slowly thumped down onto his haunched and dipped his head down to begin licking his chest.

That's when he smelled something he hadn't smelled before. Feeling it important, he decided grooming would have to wait for a minute. He climbed back up onto his paws and padded forth to follow the scent. He stared, at a distance, at the noodle and wrinkledog.

He was silent, not knowing what either of them were. So, he sat down again and while keeping an eye on them, began to groom his forelegs.



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Black was listening to Fisher carefully, examining the scar and wondering just what sort of enemy bird this Aza'zel was, when Fisher suddenly bolted forward.

With a startled growl Black charged after him, hackles raising and muzzle wrinkling up slightly in preparation to snarl as he spotted the wild dog. But he stopped short of any actual threat display; the creature--while tall--seemed of a rangy, slender build and somehow rather nonchalant about their presence. It certainly wasn't an attacker--unless he was the distraction for an ambush?

Black skidded to a halt alongside Fisher, his heavy head whipping around so he could look every which way, trying to cover all possible approaches all at once with his eyes.

It left him looking rather like a mastiff getting ready to snap at flies buzzing around him.

In any case, it meant that he left Bones alone--and left Fisher to speak with him--instead focusing on keeping his brown friend safe.

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The dog lowered his head a little to look at Fisher, blinking. "I'm bones," he said. "Hi, Fisher."

Slowly, Bones sniffed Fisher. There was a moment of silence that was soon filled with the sounds of the painted dog's tail thumping hollowly off the cave floor as he moved to lick Fisher between the eyes, friendly.


He wasn't worried by Fisher's scars or that they ruined his nice pelt, or the alert wrinkledog near by. Though, for whatever reason, he lifted his head and craned it over his shoulder, barking. "Mom! Mooooooom!"


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Giggle had been--rather frustratedly--trying to assemble an entire skeleton. She wasn't sure why she was doing it; only that she wanted some idea of what this particular animal had been. But why? She didn't know.

Ever since the strange--

"Mooooom..."

Giggle's head jerked up, and a few of the bones toppled over with a clatter; she snarled a soft oath, then blinked and sighed. She was far too stressed out over this--over the ribs that kept falling over, the spine that collapsed time and time again.

It would be good to forget it, for a time. She immediately kicked off in a swift trot up the trail toward Bones's voice; he hadn't sounded all that alarmed, but he rarely called for her nonetheless. And bones knew his sense of what was dangerous, and not, was desperately impaired.

Befriending Kerberos after I told him to avoid him. Hrmph.

She was still a little huffy and irritable when she rounded the corner, moving up around a tall stalagmite and a pile of bones to peer out at two strangers. She paused, one paw in the air, then slowly lowered it as she took them in.

A strange, long brown creature, with Bones far too close to it--it must be friendly, then--and a large, black dog that had already spotted her and was staring intently, every muscle coiled to spring. But there was something about his demeanor that said waiting, too, and she just snorted at him.

"Yes, yes, what is it? Who are you?" she began, then--realizing that her attitude was still quite tinged by her earlier irritation--"I'm Giggle. Is there something I can do for you?"

The hyena trotted up alongside Bones more slowly, going to gently nuzzle him with a face still caked with scarring lacerations. Her fur still hung with dried gore and the sticky residue of growing fungus, but she didn't seem to notice, or care.

"Are you all right?" she murmured--all but a hidden whisper--in Bones's oversized ear.

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Roll the bones.

Bones nodded, tail thumping off the ground. "I think they want to talk to you," said the dog. After all, the only reason strangers ever came into Canis was to talk to Giggle - so it seemed logical that the noodle and wrinkledog would be here to talk to the hyena.

Absently, the wild dog moved to lick Giggle's muzzle a few times, half-closing his eyes. Though, when he caught sight of his 'mother's' coat, he grumbled somewhat. It seemed as though that while the bonecaster didn't care much for it, the pup certainly did.

The dog turned his gaze back to Fisher, fondly, waiting for him to answer the hyena.


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