The calf that wandered, at a wobbly trot, from Tunnel F was not particularly imposing. His black coat and blood red glowing eyes were definitely... a thing, but he weighed only around two hundred pounds.

The fearless belligerence in his gait, then, didn't quite match up. He was small; his instincts just didn't know it, yet. Pugilist jaw and beady gaze wandered Pegasus' peaceful plains--and then the calf veered off, moving (and this, at least, was the instinct of the small) for the cover of the forest, instead.

He slipped into its shadows, taking refuge in its cool dark, and the change of moisture in the air and the call of birds high overhead told him that this place was somehow separate from the fields below. He began a slow, aimless meander up the hills, hooves digging unsteadily into the peat and soft earth beneath, nose and lips working to nibble at any random thing he found.

There was no real thought behind it; he was freshly-hatched, less than an hour old, with no clue what he ought to--or could be--doing.

At some point, Puck had hatched. Confused. Paranoid. Alone. The shards of chrysalises surrounded him. The tunnel hot, dry, empty. The only survivor of that hellish game. They had only one thought in their mind, then. To get away from Hydra. As far away as they could manage.

The monkey had found a refuge within Pegasus. Within the trees. In the dark. Hiding from a threat he thought--no, he knew was in pursuit. It could not grab Puck if he hid. If he stayed hidden. But today, a wrench was thrown into it's plans. A dark calf, red eyes glaring at the world, tromping through Puck's hiding spot. He watched from above, hiding within a tangle of branches.

A pure white hand scratched at the monkey's chin, as hard eyes glared at the calf beneath. It was noisy. Chewed at Puck's grass. Left a trail for the dark creature to follow. And that wouldn't do at all. So Puck would deal with it as it'd dealt with noisy lessers.

He tried to concentrate his magicka, a solid gust to knock loose pinecones and tree nuts, to pelt the calf. However, nothing occured. A fizzle of magicka. The branches above barely shifted. Puck would have to deal with it himself, then. He puffed out a sigh. Puck crawled lower, down the trunk, until he was but a few feet above the calf.

"Puck's home." The tiny monkey said. His cold, wisp eyes wavered in an unseen breeze. "Leave."

@Abaddon

The black calf jerked, stumbling back with a sharp snort to stare up at the sudden voice.

Red eyes stared, and the tail switched once across his hocks, the hair at its tip tangled. "WHAT YOU?" he demanded at once, and then grunted, annoyed by his own stupid words. "What ARE you," came the immediate correction.

Hooves took a step back, warily, and eyes cut around the dark canopy above. It was a... an imp-thing, white and ghostly and with ghostly eyes and was it-... a spirit? A ghost? Abaddon had no concept of these things, but it was telling him to leave, and he didn't know if it was dangerous.

Still-... "No," he added. He wished it could be a bellow but he was like, three feet tall. "I stay." Firm, with a narrowing of his red eyes, and a spike of his heart rate.

Was this... fear? Whatever it was, his instincts were screaming that it was "fight time," and he was preparing. Black smoke trickled up from his hooves in tendrils, little embers igniting underfoot in the scattered pine needle and leaf litter in the dirt.

@Puck

Okay, the calf was loud. Real loud. Puck's eyes narrowed, the wisp eyes growling ever so slightly dimmer. "Puck is Puck." He said. Puck did not owe this calf an explanation of what, or who he was. And he did not did not react, outwardly at least, the the calf's apparent fear. Puck didn't care, so long as it served the purpose of getting this thing away from Puck's sanctuary. Puck thought he'd had it in the bag. The little calf seemed scared. That is, of course, until the thing said no.

"No? What you mean, no?" Puck repeated, incredulous. Was the calf not aware of the danger? " Puck said LEAVE. You will bring it here. Listen to Puck! You go. Go die elsewhere." Puck said, ever the selfless gembound. It was the first greater Puck had interacted with in cycles, and Puck already didn't like him.

It was then that Puck noticed the bits of smoke, the ground catching flame beneath the bull's feet. It brought bad memories to the surface. The flames, the screams, the tiny circle of light. Puck flinched, instinctively backing up the tree a few inches before he could stop himself. But no, If the bull continued Puck's safe haven could catch. The whole thing igniting and burning to the ground. Leaving Puck in the open. Open to see, to kill, to puppet. "No. Not Puck. You leave." Puck said. His hair stood on end at the image." Leave now," he said.

The want to hide, to be unseen took form. Puck's magicka sparked, spluttered, barely there. But then it condensed. Reedy wisps of dark surrounded him, flicking in and out of being. It wasn't a very impressive or scary display, especially on a monkey inches long, but to a child, it could've been.

@Abaddon

"I said NO," the calf sputtered, already toying with the horn-nubs of his head against the trunk of the tree. If he couldn't fight something he'd... he'd rub against the tree! Yeah. Aggressively! A couple light thunks of calf-skull to wood as Puck spoke, and then he answered, peering up with red eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Die? NO. -Bring what here? What I bring here?" And a scowl, a correction--"What... do I bring here?" No! That wasn't right, either! "WHAT WOULD I BRING HERE!" the little calf managed, his voice raised to a loud bleat.

The little elf-sprite-ghost-thing's hair was on end, and shadows gathered to shroud it; Abaddon sprang back a few steps, snorting in surprise. What had that been?!

And then, the smell of fire, alarming to him; and he turned, dancing a quick, fleeing circle around himself, staring down at his own feet.

Where was all this smoke coming from?! Why were his feet hot?! "What you do?! -DID!" he cried, staring up accusingly at Puck, his newest correction making very little sense.

@Puck

Puck glared at the calf. Puck had been having a good day. A great day. And now there was a loud child, his hiding spot was smoking and his tree was shaking--wait. Puck's tree was shaking. His eyes widened, and he focused on the base of the tree. That calf! The calf was rubbing its horn nubs on Puck's tree. "No, you! Stop that!" He cried. Puck pointed an accusatory hand at the calf.

"You--you little annoyance! You dumb stupid baby! You bring the dark monster!" Puck was, unbeknownst to him, getting a taste of his own medicine. A fraction of the annoyance, the sheer agony he'd inflicted on other gembound.

"Dark monster will come and take your body! Make you speak!" Puck felt satisfied by that. The calf would die before he did, at least. Then the calf jerked back, doing a strange little circle, staring at his feet. The calf was aware of his feet smoking. And, somehow, came to the conclusion that it was Puck's fault.

"What? Me!? You do-did that! Puck up here!" Puck said. The speech of the little annoyance was getting into Puck's head. Puck gripped the bark, angry. A section of it felt loose. Puck pulled until it broke free, then threw the shard, aiming for the calf. "Go away!"

@Abaddon

To his credit, Abaddon paused to listen, ears flicking forward, head tilting upward. Granted, his eyes remained baleful, but he listened.

"Dark monster?" he asked, and was about to ask for Puck to elaborate--what did that mean? How would it take his body? He was confused, more than afraid, though with some vague idea that the Dark Monster might prove frightening, once explained. But Puck was then insisting that he hadn't made Abaddon's hooves smoke.

The calf looked down with an annoyed snort, studying his own cloven toes. They stank of fire, and they-

-A chunk of bark hurtled down, bouncing off the calf. He flinched, leaping back, stumbling over his own legs and landing on his haunch. For a moment he just sat dumbly, lifting his head up to stare at Puck.

Then Abaddon let out a loud bleat, scrambling back to his feet to charge at the tree trunk! Skull thunked into wood, and he stumbled, only to bash it again. He was likely to hurt his own head more than the tree, but anger drove him--he had no thoughts of knocking Puck out of the tree, and at only two hundred pounds he'd likely not be doing much bar a little bark-vibration.

But he certainly looked angry, his little hoof-scuffles and angry snorts saying enough.

@Puck

'Dark monster,' the short calf asked. And Puck wanted to laugh. He didn't know. Puck didn't make any attempt to explain to him. Puck would let the calf experience it without any knowledge. A sort of dark victory. Then, the shard of bark hit the calf's back. The calf flinched back, stumbling over his legs in shock, and falling on his butt. Giving Puck a wide eyed look. Puck snorted, cheeks filling with air. Then, Puck did laugh. A guffaw, pointing at the small calf. A shred of the Puck that was.

Tears filled the monkey's eyes, and he watched the calf through blurred vision. The calf may not have had the strength to knock Puck off, or make the tree shiver, but the surprise it inflicted did. The calf's head hit the trunk. Puck, blinded by tears and wheezing with laughter, didn't see it coming. With the sudden vibration of the tree, Puck yelped. His muscles locked, and he fell to the ground. It took him a second to realize, oh shit, that's not good. But when he did, he scrambled to his feet, backing away from the very angry looking child.

Magicka flared, and Puck sent a gust of wind into the calf's face. Panicked, it wasn't strong, but Puck hoped it was enough. With that distraction underway, Puck turned to bolt from the calf.

@Abaddon

The calf turned, with another 'bellow' (a bleat), at the gust of air. It didn't take much to distract him, and he thrust himself in a leaping, head-lowered bound for the pocket of wind. He hadn't seen what had done it but had definitely been something and instinct decreed that he strike at somethings (which had dared to exist near him!) with his horns.

He didn't bother to ask Puck anything further--he didn't think of it, his own question already half-forgotten--instead swiping horn-nubbed head at thin air.

Abaddon hit nothing, of course, but it was a very convincing display, and likely good practice for his later years. Then he charged a few paces--and when he still found nothing he snorted, head coming up. The calf turned this way and that, darting a few wobbly paces into the trees, but Puck was now nowhere to be seen.

"BLEEAAAAH!" he cried: a victory bleat.

@Puck