The black dog padded to the edge of the water, peering down. Wet nose touched the surface; tongue dipped down to lap up frigid water.

It was always so cold.

He showed no discomfort as he drank, instead drinking his fill, then shaking himself and looking around. He was travelling the caves--doing a circuit to see how everything was. When he was done, he would no doubt return to lingering in Polaris, but for now he observed the lagoon, the waterfall, with interest. It held an ethereal beauty to it, and he watched, for a time, as if entranced.

Elias, perched where he was atop the rocks, at last drew Black's eye. The hound blinked, and then paced over to be in earshot, his great head tilting.

It was, though obvious in color, small--and for a moment, he thought that perhaps it was only a very small creature. But as he studied it, he realized that he'd seen its like before, in a creature that had grown to some fifteen feet in length.

"You are very large," Black informed it, at last breaking the silence with what might have seemed like nonsense. "But for now, you are small. Are you new, Spotted Thing?"

His body language appeared entirely nonthreatening, though not overtly friendly, either--matter-of-fact and almost aloof, yet somehow, if vaguely, benevolent. It was like some grandfather coming across a child he'd never met, with fatherly instincts but the restraint of age guiding him.

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Black stepped carefully closer, never taking his calm gaze from the hatchling. Paws picked up, and put down, padding into the dampness atop the rock, tracking droplets of water along with him.

Closer, closer, and he lowered himself to his haunches: sitting, watching Elias attentively, his ears pricked.

"I know that you are a thing-that-speaks," he informed him--as if to tell the young gator that he could speak. "I have seen one like you before. Darker. But the same." The guardian hound lowered his head, and a moment later a banana simply sprang into existence. Wet, black nose pushed this toward Elias.

"It is for eating. You are a thing-that-eats-meat, and a thing-that-eats-fish. This is not fish. It is not meat. It is fruit, but it is magic," the dog explained.

It certainly looked like a new hatch, but Black's mind didn't exactly run the same paths as others', and to him, speaking to a newborn as if it were an adult, but patiently, teachingly, seemed quite normal. And anyway, he knew from experience that the newly-hatched were often hungry--and that the magical bananas were delicious even for carnivores to eat.

Why, he couldn't have said; but magic was magic, and he didn't always understand it.

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Black peered down, his brow furrowing. Ahh, but that was a harder question than it seemed. And where some Gembound might have simplified things for a child, the dog didn't think to, not this time. "I am the black dog. I have been called Void. Or Black. You may call me what you wish. I do not know your name," he added, and it wasn't a question so much as a... statement.

He waited for the banana's sparkling to take over the hatchling, waiting for it to finish eating. But as it did, he spoke. "You are new. There are things that would eat you. Some small things grow large. Some do not," Black added, seeming to be rambling, a little, despite his studious focus. "You are a thing-that-will-grow. And then you will eat the smaller things," he assured him. And then, thinking--"The other one of you that I have seen lives half in water. It floats. It is quiet, when it is not loud."

Helpful.

With that said, the dog thumped his tail twice on the wet rock, droplets jumping. "The black dog is guardian. Does the Little Thing wish protection?" He paused, tilted his head, and asked--"Knowledge?"

Absently--as was habit, now--he tugged at the threads of the strange magic he still held. But nothing happened, and he sat quiet, toying with it the way one might idly play with string in the hand.

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Both, then, Black concluded, with a questionable leap in logic.

"Then I will protect--Elias. Which knowledge do you wish?" The fact that the child had been questioning those things seemed to be utterly lost on the hound. "There is much to know. Of Masters, and Magic. Of hunting. Of places within the caves."

These topics laid out on offer, like Elias's own personal search engine, the black dog sat waiting: silent and attentive. It seemed like some sort of menu, given to the hatchling to ask which concept--or concepts--he wanted to pursue.

Black seemed to be in no hurry, either; he simply sat, stoic and silent, his eyes on Elias. It was if he had nowhere better to be--as if he had come here purely to find the child, and offer him his aid.

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Elias was confused.

Well, then.

Others might have decided to take it slow, but Black decided that this was an indication that the entire universe needed to be explained. He had, however, at the very least, the sense to back up and begin from the start, and simply.

"You are a child. I am an adult. We are in caves. There are many who live in these caves. Many have gemstones in them. I do not," he added, unaware that his heart was a jewel. Elias, though, had an obvious shining point atop his nose, and Black pushed up from his haunches to pad closer, to nose gently at it, should the gator hatchling allow it. "And all of us have magic. We have different magic. Darkness, light; fire, water, and others. And there are different caves. They are large. Some have forests, and some water, as here. And we have different forms. And we eat different things." He paused, face wrinkled up as if deep in thought.

"...Does it understand?" he asked, and it was not clear if he was asking Elias, or asking himself, aloud.

All the while, he toyed with that magic--pulling on its frayed threads--but still, nothing happened.

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