Archimedes was very small.

This--in a world of very large creatures--often posed its own set of problems and the rat, despite his best efforts, had not yet managed to find what he was looking for. He'd gotten close--so close--with the snow leopard cub; and then she'd vanished entirely from his life.

Dead, or asleep; he didn't know, but it didn't serve his purposes.

Archimedes paused, sniffing downward at a water channel. He remained carefully still for a time, ensuring no predators were lurking within, before leaping down and swimming nimbly to the other side. He pulled himself out, darting up amongst the reeds and moving onward.

Tedium had recently been plaguing him, and--annoyed--he'd at last decided to settle for a Lesser. If, that was, he could find one. Something faster than him, which could traverse the caves more easily, would be best; something, perhaps, with wings. And something dangerous. Something that could fight off his would-be predators with ease.

The problem was, Archimedes did not know the protocol for trying to befriend a Lesser Gembound. He knew vaguely that some Gembounds had familiars, but he didn't quite know how that worked, nor if one had to get to know the creature first. And he had no idea what he could possibly do to convince a larger, stronger, mindless creature not to simply eat him.

Archimedes hopped from one branch to the next, pausing to shake mud from one hind leg.

Food was usually the way to an animal's heart, though. Maybe if he could find something else for a predator to eat, he'd not be the main course. But finding something that Archimedes could kill would be hard enough on its own--and he really did not want to even tackle the cave's other rats. They were generally bigger than him, meaner than him, and... well, he'd grown up with some, after all.

Mice, then? Mice might do, he reasoned.

He pushed forward, delving among the roots of a tree, sniffing for any sign of mice.

The scent of them pulled him almost at once. As a rat, the odor of mice was a draw: he held a strange, instinctive urge to kill them wherever he might find them. Still, he wasn't usually needlessly cruel... he killed to eat, on rare occasions when he felt a craving for protein and could find no insects with which to quell it. Here, though--he needed one.

He heard the telltale scratching of a Molemouse moments later, and wondered at it. He was familiar enough with them, and this place didn't usually have solid dirt so much as mud. Ahh, well. At least they were small enough for even a rat his size to easily take.

Archimedes crept toward the scratching sounds, and then prowled just behind. The moment the thing emerged, he'd try to kill it with a quick bite to the back of its skull... if it ever did come out.

It was only moments later, and went lightning-quick: star-shaped nose and broad paws parted the dirt, and Archimedes tensed and sprang. There was a brief, confused tangle of the taste of blood and a crunch, and thrashing warmth beneath his paws, and then it was over--the mouse twitching, dead, in his grip.

There we are, he thought primly, and sat back to wash his whiskers.

"My apologies, my little friend," Archimedes said to the dead mouse. "But I do have need of your services."

He gripped it by the nape of its limp neck, and began the arduous task of dragging it through Cetus, in search of smallish predators. The swamp's little divots and water channels might have been but a step and a wading hop for larger Gembounds, but for the rat it was like climbing mountains and swimming broad rivers. It was exhausting, particularly with the mouse in hand. Well--in teeth.

He kept his nose up, though, periodically dropping his prize to sit up and take scent in all directions. He needed... a larger rat, perhaps, or a large bird, or bat...

"...Or a snake," he murmured, as the scent of serpentine musk reached his nostrils. That was both alarming--spiking prey-beast panic along his nerves--and promising. If he could 'tame' something stronger, fiercer than he was, well... it was a first step toward increasing his survivability.

He began to haul the mouse forward, toward the odor, careful not to draw too close.

When at last he came to the hole beneath the tree--a gap, shadowed, beneath the gnarled roots--he paused. He nudged the dead mouse forward, then quickly moved backward. And almost at once, he saw movement beneath the branches, the flick of a golden tongue.

It was long--sleek, black, its scales shining where they weren't caked with mud--and thick, gold-hued scutes rose like armor along its neck and back. It had too many eyes, he noted. Three of them on each side of its head, also brilliant gold.

Archimedes waited in tense, utterly still silence, watching the serpent slowly unfold itself and curl forward. He reached out, tentatively, with his magic as its tongue sought out the scent of mouse (or was it seeking rat..?), keeping as safe a distance as he could.

He wasn't sure quite how to do this, but... perhaps he could find out, through trial and risky error?

Archimedes felt that link snap neatly into place, and gasped in a sharp intake of swamp air.

"...Oh," he breathed, at last, easing himself down into the mud.

The serpent, too, had frozen, all six eyes staring his way.

Eat, Archimedes thought, feeling its consciousness along that link. He could... communicate with it, yes. Perhaps not speak, but if he thought of what he meant--pictured the mouse he'd left there in the mud, imagined the taste of it--maybe the snake would understand?

Its mind was alien to him. Cold, distant, and empty. He could not be sure, even now, that it wouldn't try to eat him--so he kept his distance, waiting, as the Golden Charger slowly slid back into motion.

As it began to slowly work its jaws around its prey, Archimedes sent it tentative, careful thoughts. He twined emotion and meaning with words, struggling to make himself understood.

I need an ally. Many things try to eat me. Come with me, and you can eat them. Protect me... carry me. I will find you more food. And I am smarter than you. I will keep you safe from things you do not understand.

A moment later, he felt the simple acceptance of the snake.

Yes, it would do this. It would cooperate with him. It would benefit, and he would benefit: cold logic allowed for this. However, right now, the serpent's jaws were busy unhinging to swallow down a molemouse: and then it would rest.

Archimedes' journey would have to wait.

The rat paused, whiskers twitching, and then... accepted this. And--with incredible caution--he now crept forward, risking his life to test his successes thus far.

He drew closer to the Golden Charger, eyeing up its gilded charcoal scales--and it ignored him, though he could see himself watched in its mind's eye. He brushed his whiskers along its neck, its flank, and it did not react. (In fact, he felt it note him, and then disregard his touch as not-a-threat.) He stepped on it, very lightly--and then put weight onto it, climbing carefully onto the armored scales of its back.

It tipped back its head to swallow down the mouse.

Triumph.