White never really wandered far from the place she had hatched. Black - who she could only assume was her father - had said he would guard her. What kind of good thing-to-be-guarded would she be if she didn't stay in one place?

He was never really far away either - it seemed everywhere she went (which was maybe around a 20 yard radius of her shattered chrysalis) he was always watching her. She gazed out into Polaris, quiet for a moment.

And then she was bouncing around happily, her throat emitting strange sounds, a mix between a dog's rough bark and the high-pitched squawk of a crow. She didn't really have anything to make noises at; but there was no harm in practicing for when there were noises to be made.

She bounced and she barked and she squawked. She sprawled out wings that were covered in small pinfeathers and waved them up and down. She had no idea what they were for - but she was certain that she'd find out some day. She continued barking and squawking.

Eventually, she found herself away from the egg. Quizzically, she looked around, but it was nowhere to be found. She sat down on her bird-half, pink talons reaching past her paws. She couldn't quite tell what way was the way back to her egg, but that was okay.

Dad was probably watching anyway.

She looked up at the ceiling, and then she looked at the erect, slightly throbbing Spire, observing the glowing lights for a moment before she lowered herself onto her chest, pink tongue lolled out of the left side of her mouth as she watched, wide-eyed, the heart of Polaris.

The pup-chick stared at the spire for a good few minutes before from the corner of her eye, she saw something. White, like she was, but it certainly wasn't White. she was White, after all. She clambered to her paws and her talons, bounding over to the white-but-not-White.

"Hi!" she half-barked half-squawked. "I'm White! Who are you? We should be friends!" She bounded around the cow, beak-like snout getting close to Caravaggio's legs to sniff them curiously before she continued to bounce.

"What are you up to? Do you know my dad? He's Black! Do you know Fisher? Fisher's my bestest best friend ever!" The tiny white tuft of feathers seemed to have endless energy, talons clacking against the cave floor as she bounced around her new self-proclaimed friend. "Can I guess your name? Oh! I bet it's Strong. You look strong! You're big too-- is it Big?"

However, the crowdog was soon to calm down as she sat down in front of the white calf, pink-red eyes wide in excitement as she awaited an answer from him. She practically vibrated with excitement - the feathers around her neck shaking as she waited for a reply.

White said nothing for a moment, her ears slanted back and pressed against her head. Her name was stupid? Black and Fisher's names were, too? The down-feathers covering the hybird's upper half flattened against her pink skin and her paws shifted quietly on the ground.

She didn't know what Caravaggio was, but she wondered briefly if it meant 'mean,' or perhaps if it meant one of the other things she called him - but Strong and Big were apparently stupid, too. To seemingly rub in how hurt she was even more, he practically rejected her friendship.

She didn't know people could... not be friends. Out of the entire three people she's met so far, the other two were nice to her. The loud excitment in her tone was replaced with a stammer, the creature seemingly refusing to look up at the cow, instead at the ground in front of her paws, "I... I w-want to be.. to be friends with you b-because.. because, you seemed... nice?"

The tiny white thing slowly got up to all fours again. Clearly, she had done something wrong that she'd have to ask her dad about. Or... well, her dad seemed... to be lacking some knowledge in the social aspect of life. Maybe she'd ask Fisher instead. There were tears coming to her pink eyes as she stepped back. "I-I'm sorry I called you stupid names and that I have a stupid name and I did something wrong and that we can't be friends now b-but I don't know what I d-did wrong and I'm sorry I'm a horrible n-not friend," she rambled.

She stumbled over her own talons, falling back onto her rump a little bit away from the cow. It hurt - not a lot, but it still hurt. The tears began to stain the creamy down-feathers around her face. She felt strangled, as if she couldn't breathe at all, and began quietly gasping for breath as the water flooded down her face.

There was a visible change in the white canine-hybrid he saw unfolding with each slow passing second. Her expression seemed to falter and slowly drop into something else, and the cow would have shrugged it off with disinterest if only this new emotion hadn't looked so... candid. His brows furrowed, examining the metamorphosis of her visage with at first idle observation. Then confusion. Before long, she dropped her eyes so that he couldn't really see her eyes or her shifting expression any more. He felt thankful for a quick second because whatever it was that she was showing him made him feel guilty, and he didn't like that feeling. He was fooled into believing that he could get away scot-free with whatever he'd done, so long as she didn't look at him he wouldn't feel bad.

But then came her voice, and the cow froze all over again, his heart icing over as chills ran up his spine and his neck into his widened eyes. It shook and wavered as she clamored over a reason why he'd want to be friends with her. Why did she sound so upset? It wasn't like Caravaggio had necessarily said no, although... he had come off as rather brash... and he really was kind of a jerk about it... but maybe that was her fault for not having a tougher heart. He was stuck, caught in his words and awkward indecision over what to do. He knew that if he bailed now, he'd be left with a feeling of unease and guilt. She said it herself, she thought that he might be nice, and she wanted to be friends with him. That meant that she must have liked him before he said those mean things. So if she went back to liking him, maybe he wouldn't feel so bad.

She suddenly stood up and backed the fuck up outta there, causing him to lift his eyes back to her. Caravaggio, too, had taken a step back - as if that would somehow give her even more space, even though she was backing up. But then she tripped over her clawed feet and sunk back to the ground, huffing and straining words in between sorrowful sobs, apologetic and remorseful. And those tears. Why, they just drove the stake in deeper. "Uh - hey - wait, just wait," Caravaggio fumbled, twisting his wide ears back. The cow inched closer to her, hanging his head as his deep violet gaze probed for the girl's attention. "I never - never said we couldn't be friends-" Okay, but you called her name stupid. "and hey, I never said YOUR name was stupid! Just Big and Strong! I mean - what I meant to say - it would be silly if those were my name - because I already have a name! See, it's Caravaggio!" The boy desperately attempted to backtrack, searching for any sign that his cloying for forgiveness was working. "You can be my friend if you want."

It was marginally less difficult to say than he thought it would be. In all honesty, Caravaggio didn't have many friends. Or... any friends. Cayenne wasn't really a friend, she just kind of took care of him when he was still getting used to his legs, and... well, that plague horse definitely wasn't his friend because he was gross, and Hasira was weird and a little too intense for him, and all of Hasira's friends were probably just as lame. Besides, it was below Caravaggio to ever ask anybody to be his friend, but if it made the little girl feel better, she could be if she wanted.

The little hybrid seemingly didn't hear Caravaggio at first - the salty water wouldn't stop pouring out of her eyes. She had considered calling for her father to take this hater-of-friendship away, but something pulled her back from that.

Finally though, she did hear the last part of the cow's sentence. One ear slowly lifted with her snout, eyes wide. "D-do you mean it...?" she murmured softly - a volume she didn't know she could lower to until now.

She didn't really wait for an answer - I mean, who would lie to her? Absolutely no one. Definitely. In seconds she was up again, brighter than ever (though with a face wetter than ever, too) and she was skipping in the spot in excitement.

"Caravaggio! We're friends! We should be the best at friendship," she said. It never occurred to her friendship was something so fragile and delicate and could be rejected and lost until now - she had to make every friendship the best one ever.

So, what did friends do? The little crowdog stopped hopping abruptly, looking around and thinking particularly hard. She didn't want to leave Polaris just yet, so her mind recalled back to Black listing off all the places here.

"The river!" she announced proudly, though her voice didn't raise to the height it was previously. She hobbled around her new friend contentedly. "We should go to the river."

She didn't feel bad anymore - all the hurt and tears melted away into the ground. She had started to skip into some random direction - perhaps not even in the actual direction of the river, before she turned around, blinking at Caravaggio's words.

She hobbled back to the cow, ears jerking thoughtfully. "Friends do stuff together, and have fun. They protect each other from dangerous things like, uh... Well, I haven't seen anything dangerous yet because my dad keeps me safe," she smiled, paws kneading against the cave floor. "And they give each other things! Oh!"

She bounded off again, remarkably quickly for a tiny creature with over-sized bird feet. She picked up a shattered piece of her chrysalis near by, the gemstone chest glimmering as the piece began to glow dimly as she ran back. She placed the little blue-white glowing shard in front of Caravaggio and nodded, more to herself.

"There. This means we're real friends, now, and nobody can deny it," she nodded rather seriously - because this was obviously serious business and not to be fucked with. She looked around again.

"It's a mystery, what's at the river. Friends explore mysteries, too! It'll be fun." White said cheerfully, beginning to wander off again, looking over her shoulder to ensure the cow was following her.

The cow waited patiently, deep void eyes branching out to the cave that stretched all around them - promptly snapping back to her at the sound of her voice. He was cautious now not to ignore her or miss anything she said, for the sight of her tears was impressed in him and he had no want of bringing it back again. That feeling left sunken inside of him - it was a foul one, it was a dark one, and he didn't want to labor over its undesired stirring. He nodded that big heavy head of his, taking a slow step, then another, cocking his nose towards her. He wasn't sure he knew of dangerous things, unless gross things could be considered dangerous, then he had a whole list of gross dangerous things. Plague horse. Eridanus. Mud. She spoke a word that was unfamiliar to him, dad, and he made a mental note to ask her about it later. Most he understood, but this was lost.

Furrowing his brow, he quietly watched her bound off to retrieve something after saying something else about friends giving each other things. In that moment, he found himself panicking. He didn't have anything to give her. Why did they do that? That seemed like an arbitrary thing to do - but then again, he had asked her to teach him, so he took that information and tucked it away as well, leaving him with only his concern over not having anything to give her. She returned with a faintly glowing stone, he could see it gleaming in the light of the cave, and dropped it before him. A gift. Just like she said. The cow stared down at it, then up at her again. For a moment his expression blanked, uncertain of how to respond. "Ahh..." Caravaggio paused and looked down again.

There, that gleaming stone lie as a signature of their friendship. He'd told her they could be friends, and he really did mean it. Another smile suddenly spread on his lips and that tufted tail waved behind him. "Thank you!" Caravaggio piped and bent his head, plucking the stone from the ground with his grazing teeth. He didn't know what else to do with it besides carry it like that, so off he went, following her and nodding. "And if the mystery is dangerous... we'll protect each other, right?" He added tentatively, looking over at her again. He'd endured the first trial, but the prospect of having fight something made his stomach turn. He just hoped there wouldn't be anything dangerous over at the river.