She was conscious for days, but all she could see was darkness. At times, if she listened closely, she could hear voices speaking among themselves, but they were gone as soon as they arrived. Traveling. Moving on. Sometimes, if she looked very closely into the darkness, she could barely make out shapes and figures moving. Traveling.

Moving on.

Before she knew it, there was a crack in her home. Something that flood light into a place that only knew darkness, but before she could even register that, a second crack came. What is one to do when nature itself kicks you out from your beloved residence?

Moments later, the pup was lying on it's back on the floor, covered in a liquid that was dropping down her sides. She only had to move half an inch to realize she was lying in a pool of the same liquid. Her neck was heavy, it didn't take her long to realize a clouded blue gem was clamped like a vice around her neck.

She lay still, until she finally found the strength to stand. The fluid continued to drain down the puppy's body - but where was she? Somewhere nothing like the place she had come from, at least.

She looked up, down, left and right, but no ideas came to her head on what to do. So, she waited.

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Black paced slowly along the tunnel, peering at the walls. Somehow he hadn't noticed these when he'd passed through, previously--these carvings, these intricate images that his canine brain couldn't quite make out. It was here, then gone, fleeting and touching over his mind, teasing him with its potential.

Shapes. They hold meaning. I cannot fathom it, not y--... What was that?

The black dog's head swung sharply to one side and he stared, blinking. There had been a crack. He began to slowly pad toward it.

Now came another, and then a thump. There was a slightly squishy noise and Black quickened his footsteps, moving in a lumbering trot until it came into sight: a black something lying in a pool of goo. Remnants of shattered, pale blue stone lay around it, and as it stood, his calculating gaze quickly made an assessment.

Freshly-hatched. As I was. Young. Black, dog. Like me. But more slender.

He tilted his head again and looked around, furrowed brow heavily wrinkling as his gaze searched the tunnels. Surely if there was a new Gembound hatching, its master would soon come and claim it, or send it in the right direction, as Majesty had for him? Granted, he had not seen the wolf since then--but he had been sent on his way, given purpose, and had been following that purpose ever since.

But nothing stirred in the tunnel.

Black turned his attention back toward the pup, and padded closer, snuffling and sniffing closely. Finally he spoke, addressing it in a quietly gentle, yet impassive tone.

"You are new-born. Hello. I am Black. Do you have a name?"

He spoke slowly; he remembered distinctly that at his own birth, he had known no words. It had taken him some time to comprehend. Perhaps the pup would be the same way? Or maybe it could already respond?

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She didn't recongize this shape. Lean. Tall. The eyes stuck out, a piercing blue against a completely black coat. How long had it been there? It seemed to wait, almost - but for what? For her, or something else? It spoke. Black, was it's name.

"Zephyr," rasped the dog. She didn't mean for the word to come out - instead it was almost instinct. She decided not to comment further. She crept somewhat closer to Black, curious.

She sniffed, briefly, before she stopped - still quite a distance away. She had almost forgotten the first part of the dog's words. "What is new-born?" came the croaking voice.

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Black peered down as the pup crept closer, though she stopped well before reaching him. At her question, he decided to show her, to explain by actions, before explaining with words. He padded forward, pawing and scraping at one of the shards of glimmering blue gem on the floor, still wet with its... well, goo.

He then lifted his wrinkled gaze to peer at Zephyr.

"We start in a stone. We are born from the stone. You are newly-born from your stone." He said this, too, calmly and slowly, so that the dog could understand.

Then he looked around again, still waiting--and still, no master had come to claim the pup. At length, he looked back down toward her.

"Do you know what you are for?" The question was a little nonsensical but to his logic, it was quite normal: one was born, one had purpose, one fulfilled this purpose. Did she already know? Perhaps that was why she had no master.

It did not even occur to him that there might be another way. That some might be born without purpose, and without master, to forge their own fates.

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Black's answer only raised more questions, but perhaps she could ask later. She looked at the shards of blue for a moment before she looked up and down the tunnels once more. She turned to Black and slowly shook her head.

"I don't know," she said. "What are you for?"

She treated this question the same as Black had treated it, moving to carefully sit on her haunches. She was mostly dry now, most of the fluid had dripped off her coat by now. Her stomach felt odd; like a pit. Hunger. She was hungry.

While waiting for Black to reply, she craned her neck off to the side a little, sniffing.

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Black was not maternal, or even paternal, in the strictest sense of the words. He made no motion to clean the pup or to warm her, nor did he even draw close. Instead he lowered himself slowly to his own haunches, sitting.

What he did feel was a vague sense of responsibility. He wondered, briefly, if perhaps he was her master, meant to pass by as she hatched and to guide and guard her. He was a protector by nature, and this thought gave him brief pause, before he answered.

"The Dog was retrieved to aid with flooding waters in a tunnel of ice. He had little time to learn this before he had to aid. Then this water was followed. A great creature fought in the lake above. The Dog seeks the thing-that-fled, and knowledge of the little-black-creatures who built and carved and ran."

He stared at Zephyr for a moment, confused. He realized at once that his explanation would not make sense--indeed, it hardly made sense to him, and he'd been there. His wording didn't help. He took a breath, and tried again.

"I am guardian," he said, more carefully and more slowly, and he hoped that this, at least, the young puppy would be able to understand.

Then he waited, watching her, an air of infinite patience about him as if he felt that this was his current purpose.

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"You protect?" she asked.

She was still distracted with her own hunger, despite there being seemingly nothing to eat here. She looked back at Black with a tiny sigh. "What can I do?"

This was arguably a strange question too. Afterall, how was Black supposed to know this puppy's entire pupose in these caves? Still, she waited for an answer.

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Black tilted his head again, broad ears sagging to one side as he listened. He pondered.

What can it do? The Dog does not know...

He cast his mind back, thinking over those he knew, what they did; over what he could guess of their purposes.

"I do not know. Some are guardians. Some explore. Some fight. Many hunt. Each holds magic," he added.

He focused, briefly, and his coat flickered out like a light, shadow crawling up his form and cloaking him. His full concentration was not on it--this wasn't an emergency--and so it was only brief, but it was visible, and it was clearly unnatural.

"I am Void. I am darkness." He eyed the pup over, and leaned forward to peer more closely at her collar. "Many bear stones. Their magic comes from these. You have a stone. Perhaps you harbor magic, too. Perhaps knowing what it is, will guide you to your purpose."

With this he sat back upright, watching Zephyr, waiting to see what she made of her collar--and the concept of magic.

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The puppy scooted back away from Black a little as he suddenly vanished, flinching as he came close.

"Does everyone have a stone?" she asked again. Briefly, she looked down at her neck (or tried to, it was more a series of odd head movements) to try peer at the hunk of blue around her neck.

"How do I use it?"

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Black tilted his head again at the question.

"I believe so," he rumbled, but he was not certain, and it showed. "The Dog has blackness within his chest. His heart is cold and black. He knows this, though it cannot be seen. Perhaps it is stone."

Then he pondered on how to use it. Still unhurried, without any thought to the dangers of lingering in the tunnel so near the golems with a newborn--oblivious to her possible cold, wet, or hungry states--he slowly launched into further explanation.

"The Dog simply felt a draw to his magic. He is one with the darkness, and the void. Others are one with plants. With light. With water. And fire. Stone. Perhaps you feel like a thing? Perhaps you feel a tug, from your collar?"

He eyed Zephyr, tilting his head questioningly.

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