It was if the mist itself was singing.

The white noise of rushing water from beyond Cetus' limits echoed off the wet rocks, resonating from the tips of the crags to the floor below. The sounds of Cetus, regular and unchanging, were the perfect lullaby for those who cared to listen. It was rough terrain in the south of that room, and most every low, navigable point was slippery and wet. Between two outcroppings, in a damp trench deeper than those surrounding it, was a small, blue object, an egg of topaz. For weeks it had sat alone and isolated in its resting place, the mist obscuring it further from view, as the ambiance of Cetus engulfed it peacefully.

Now, however, the stone's shell began to fracture. Slowly at first, its surface began to crack noiselessly. For a few minutes, these scars were all that had changed about the object, and after those few moments of change it seemed that whatever was inside had changed its mind. But then, quickly as it had stopped, the breaking started up again, faster and more clumsily. Bits and pieces began to fall away from the blue surface as the stone lost its balance and started to move. A crack here, a hole there, and soon a large piece of the shell had broken away, followed soon by others like it, until the thing that had been fighting its confines was, after two fortnights, finally revealed to the outside world.

One small paw fought to touch the mist above it. Another followed, then another, then another, until the full form of the creature had rolled out of the shell and onto the trench floor. The creature was a mink, and as they blinked their beady, steel-blue eyes, they became aware of every sense at once.

The world around them was, first and foremost, a land of sound. They had listened for the past cycle through their shell, which had been muffled and dreamlike. But out here, with their ears, they could listen to the water that rushed from beyond where they could see, to the slow rustling of the trees above that echoed off the rocky walls. And through the mist, everything seemed to become so much clearer. They liked it out here. Things could be seen and heard, and if this world could be seen and heard, then they, too, could be seen and heard.

The mink looked back at their broken shell. They took in its aqua blue color, memorized it, recorded it. A flash of technicolor in a landscape of earthy tones. As they began to look around, they realized that this quality was reflected on their own body; their brown fur was interrupted by a square gemstone of topaz between their shoulders, the very same hue as the egg they had just left. Lovely, lovely, lovely!

They began to move their paws. One foot in front of the other, a simple task for most. But the mink quickly ran into a problem when the slippery floor proved to be incompatible with their crooked, clumsy toes, and they slid gracelessly into the nearby wall. Oh, how irritating and unpleasant! They looked upwards into the mist; the sides of the trench went up too sheerly to scale, and they could not see any place where the land rose to a reasonable elevation. But the waters echoed on as a constant hum.

Noise. Perhaps that was a solution to this perplexing puzzle? The way out could be reached by calling out, perhaps. So with the greatest breath the weasel could muster, the Gembound tried to get themself heard through the mist that swirled ever constantly above.

He had found his way back. Finally, finally, he was back to the wonderful, perfect world of mist where the trees grew out of his field of vision. Not too far from the hatchling noodle, an older, more mature noodle was wiggling around, exploring his home. It had been nearly a month since the young fisher cat had been in Cetus, and he missed it more than he missed any of his friends. Probably because he was a bit of a loner, but he loved places more than the gembounds he had met so far. Maybe it was because seeing others was so fleeting, and he rarely saw anyone more than once so far, but places stayed. As long as he could retrace his steps (which he was finding quite difficult, especially now that things looked so strange with the lights on) he could return to the familiar lands he knew.

His paws sloshed in the muck, the familiar, musky damp smell entering his nose. He could cry out in pure joy, it was so good to be back in his old home. It was still quite hard to see, so he doubted he would linger for long, but he was itching to climb a tree and.... A flash of blue caught Fisher's eyes, a fleck in the fog. His eyes scrunching up, he caught a shifting movement... Another gembound, perhaps? The noodle grinned and bounded off towards the blue and dark blur, barking loudly.

"Hey! Hey! Hello?" He called, hopping up on a root. It was then that he made out the shape... It was a thing, a small thing, just like him. In fact, the creature looked a lot like Fang-- except colored dark brown like him. His eyes went wide, copper rims bright in the dim light.

It was another animal just like him. Judging by the shell pieces of bright blue, the animal had also been born here. That made them a sort of family, didn't it? Fisher had never considered the concept of family before, but just looking at this brown noodle made him realize he might just have one. Tired of hanging around with hoofbeasts and barkfriends and especially birds, Fisher slipped off of the root and came wriggling up right next to the new Small-Fisher.

"You're just like me! I'm Fisher! Welcome to Cetus, the best place in all of the cave," he was happy to inform the newly born mustelid, his tail wagging wildly (a habit he had picked up from a barkfriend named Isaac), grinning his whiskers off. He hoped that this one liked climbing just like Fang had! He would love more friends to climb all these huge trees with, and well, there was no better way to get to know someone then make them climb dangerously high up something. Right?

The young mink looked upwards as their new companion made himself known. His voice echoed off the walls just as every other noise did, but his voice was so foreign, and so unexpected, that the small critter was more than a tad startled.

He looked a lot like them. Bigger, yes, and certainly spunkier, but the resemblance was uncanny. The two of them had the same fur color, the same thick tails and short snouts. "Fisher", was it? He had a certain spring in his step that so contrasted with the melodious atmosphere of the room. And speaking of the room, he had called it Cetus. A poetic name for such a calming place, the mink thought.

They supposed they should speak. So they did, confidently enough for someone born just a few minutes beforehand.

"Hello, Fisher," they greeted, tersely. "That is your name...I suppose I have one, too." The mink took a moment to think. They were a mink, of course, that could be a name. But they had another one, that came as swiftly as a breeze would blow through the trees above. "I am Malchderau." A suitable title, they thought. Now, onto more pressing questions; in a few words, this stranger had planted more seeds of inquiry than the young weasel would've thought possible.

"This is Cetus? That is the name of this..." Malchderau struggled to find a word for it. Fisher had mentioned a cave, so certainly this marshy place couldn't be all of the world. "This...land?" Good enough.

Malchderau looked at Fisher inquisitively. For a few seconds, anyways. The lack of personal space had become increasingly obvious, and the smile he wore wasn't helping matters. Malch's expression went from innocent curiosity to unamused irritation in the flick of a whisker. They wanted answers, yes, and this creature could provide them, but they also desired space.

"...Don't touch me. And back away a few steps." Blunt. To the point. They didn't know how else to approach it, though, so there it was. Focus on your questions, Malch thought to themself. Where were they?

The mink seemed quite intelligent for how small they were! Fisher listened to their short, snappy way of speaking, filled with long pauses for thought. When the small noodle finally came up with their own name, Fisher's ears twitched. Malchaerau? That was quite the long name, and poor Fisher had quite an attempt at wrapping his jaws around it. Ma… Malch, er, dew? Der ow? Der roaww. He made a few faces, quietly trying to figure out the name in his own, weird fashion while the mink worked out what he had said.

… As Fisher thought he had finally got it figured out, the Small-Fisher got a rather obvious look of annoyance on their face. His fur puffed up just a little as the runt told him first of all, not to touch, and second of all, to back off. No one ever had such nerve to tell Fisher what to do, but maybe there was a good reason not to touch? It took the larger noodle a second to realize that the tiny one might be uncomfortable with the size difference-- indeed, Fisher had eaten things bigger than Malch here.

"Malchdereww," Fisher huffed, shaking out his fur before hopping on to the trunk of the nearest tree, sinking his claws deep into the wood. He supposed he could just climb up a tree to give the mink some breathing room. Maybe the gembound would try it out themselves? "This is whole area is Cetus, yeah. No need to be so grumpy. Won't find a better climbing spot. You try this is Polaris or anything and you'll get attacked by rivers and giant white monsters that breath snow and even the crystals will zap you." Fisher thought it might be good to tell the young mink everything he knew, but of course this came out as more of a nonsensical ramble from the excited, joyous mustelid. He was just so happy to meet another noodle! At first, he had thought that there wasn't much more than giant hoofbeats and big ol' bark friends, and it was just so fantastic that there were others much more his speed.

"But here, you can climb all you want and nothing'll stop you. The fog keeps us safe from stuff, too, I guess. It's not the prettiest place, but it's where we were born, eh?" He flashed a grin at the pup, who might not even be paying much mind to his silly rambling. "And everyone else should be jealous. Not everyone gets to be an awesome wiggly, climbing master born in the best place ever."

Climbing sure did seem to work this strange mustelid up. Malchderau tried to wrap their head around Fisher's words, but his rambling speech seemed to raise more questions than it answered. They understood that Polaris was probably the name of another area in whatever this place was, this strange cave that housed them. And they certainly understood the safe atmosphere of Cetus that Fisher described, having gestated surrounded by that mist for the past cycle. But they didn't get what being "attacked by rivers" meant, nor did they understand what giant snow-breathing monsters were.

"Monsters? Crystals that 'zap' you? I don't understand," Malch said plainly, stumbling over to the base of the tree that Fisher now occupied. He sure seemed fond of Cetus, so certainly it couldn't be a bad place, and the tree looked safe enough. The young mink wasn't so sure about trying to climb just yet, though, so they contented themself by pawing at a root.

"Where is this 'Polaris'?" Malch inquired. "It doesn't sound so great, they way you talk about it." Indeed, whatever they were, the monsters Fisher mentioned did not sound pleasant. But the mink knew that this creature could very well be incorrect, and planted themself at the base of the tree to listen further to their companion's explanations.

Golly, this little noodle was smart for not knowing much at all! The mink came closer, however, And Fisher adjusted himself on the trunk of the tree, his hind ankles twisting easily to suit his weight. Didn't seem like they were too eager to join Fisher, but hey, that was alright!

The bigger mustelid grinned at the baby gembound's questions. "Polaris is real pretty, but it's dangerous. 'Specailly now. Definitely not as great as here, sure. And yeah, there's this big blue thing, it's a crystal, it's probably not as tall as this tree... But it's real tall still. I climbed all the way up it, and then it shocked me and I felt and bruised my paw up bad. I was challenging a friend of mine, see, Leon. He's a big brown bear, kinda like us but less long and much bigger ways."

Fisher's copper eyes glinted as he got into his story-- he wasn't a great story teller, but he certainly did get quite excited about the tale anyway. "Anyway, so the Blue Crystal thing-- I think it's called The Spire?-- shocked me and we left it be, but later I came back with this other gembound cause I had a great idea. See, I learned I could do the shocking thing right back."

;; post roll

As an example, the mustelid's gem began to spark, and soon it spread to his whole thick coat. A tiny bolt of lightning jumped from his fur to a nearby branch and made a sharp cracking sound, but it was too weak of an attack to do enough damage to snap the branch or set fire. It did leave a satisfying scorch mark in the wood, however, and pride filled his expression.

However, by now his paws were starting to hurt so Fisher slipped down on to the roots, being sure not to end up plopped too close to Malch. "So I went back, and I shocked the Blue Thing right back, right? Show it's who's boss!" He yipped, showing off his teeth as fierce as he could. "And when I shocked it, the world shook and out came a huge white monster. It was awful, it could scream and shake everything with its fists." As he went on, his body shrunk down, hunkered against the root. "Polaris is full of awful, mean things. Like, for example, the river there pulled me in and made everything so cold I could barely escape. It was awful."

"The thing is though, see, Polaris is like... The middle bit. It's how you get to everywhere else. See, this whole place is huge. Even I haven't been everywhere yet!" He hoped the young noodle understood, because like the mink was his little sibling, he wanted the best for this tiny life. Sure, there was no way Malch would ever be more awesome then him, but he could get close. Together they could be the best in all of the cave, and wouldn't that be fantastic?