Temperance clenched his teeth and carefully moved to grab the other's tail. His teeth snapped open air, eyes wide as the rock fell beneath him. His voice left his throat as he started to fall, eyes wide and full of terror.

Claws scrabbled at rock and he finally yowled, half falling and half sliding down the cliff face. He landed on a ledge with a scream, right on his rump. He lay on his side, tears rolling down his cheeks, sobbing softly.

"M-my tail-", he sobbed, bruised and battered from the fall, but ultimately okay. He was alive, at least, but his tail was a bit worse for wear, most likely broken.

"E-Ember?", he called out, "Ember are you okay?"

@Ember

Ember turned, scrambling, as Temperance fell.

There was horror, a drop in the pit of his stomach. There was the agony, the fear, of failure. He'd tried, and he'd failed. His sibling was falling.

The scream tore at him, and he half-scrambled, half-fell back down the path he'd taken up, skidding and tumbling as fast as he could go with baby wings flared out and twisting weakly to try and steady him. He reached the bottom, and to his immense relief found that Temperance was still... there. Ember did not know of death, really, but something about Temperance alive and mostly well had him almost crying.

"Am okay," he confirmed, voice high-pitched and thick with emotion.

And then, as any child panicked and afraid, he tilted back his head and in a puppy's keening howl cried, "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD?!"

@Temperance (and maybe mercy)

Oh.

Oh dear.

Mercy had not missed the sharp yowling from across Orion, but—kids would be kids, and he (erroneously) assumed that they were simply locked in play. That, or that it'd been a different set of very, very different cubs making such a ruckus. Either way the old lion was already moving towards the sound. A cry of pain and a summoning call kicked his pace into a higher gear.

Furrowed brows took in the scene in an instant, and he moved first for Temperance, "tell me where it hurts most… ?" Already, his magic was reaching to distract the cub. It formed a brilliant display in the form of glimmering mosses, a iridescent turquoise stone, a rushing river: it was Polaris cast in vivid relief.

His tongue made a few soothing rasps up the child's back as he awaited an answer from them, and then he looked to Ember.

Gaze softening in the face of the poor pupling's horror, Mercy lowered his head slightly and murmured, "do you know what happened?" Moonlit gaze searched with only approximate intensity, purely curious and not at all brokering signs of punishment or parental scolding for being so silly as to play on high-up places.

That lesson has already been learned, he thought, with no amusement.

@Temperance

"My tail!", the cub whined, the appendage limp, a crick in the middle of it suggesting a broken bone.

Temperance looked up at Mercy, terrified, "Is it gonna be okay? Am I gonna live? I'm sorry-"

The only reason he wasn't panicking so badly was because of Mercy's calmness. If Mercy had been freaking out, he would be too. But right now, the tears were flowing due to pain, but he wasn't hysterical.

Sniffling, he turned to the illusion, ears pricking up, "Wh-where's that?"

Successfully distracted, he stretched his neck out to sniff at the illusion, lifting a paw to try and bat at it curiously. For now, the pain was pushed to the back of his head.

@Ember

Mercy had never shown any real sternness whatsoever, in Ember's short life. He had no reason to be afraid. And he hadn't done anything wrong, either. But somehow, when the white lion looked from Temperance to him (despite the softness of Mercy's face), Ember felt afraid. Guilty, even. Like he'd done something wrong, like maybe Dad thought he'd done this. It had no root in reality, but it was there, and he flinched a little--cowered down ever-so-slightly.

"I dunno," he answered quietly, voice a near-whisper. "He fell. I didn't do it. I tried to help, I'm sorry," he added in quiet, rapidly-tumbling words. This last was directed at Temperance.

Oh, if only he knew how to use his wings-!

But the little Polaris was a hell of a distraction, and his eyes widened. He crept forward, staring at it--then glanced up at Mercy (not really afraid--the lion wouldn't hurt him) before sniffing at the illusion. Temperance asked where it was: so he asked a follow-up question, tone one of awe. "Is it real..?"

@Mercy

"Is it gonna be okay? Am I gonna live? I'm sorry—" Mercy shushed the cub softly, the sound puffing out from between inky lips. He shook his great 'ol head, and murmured, "it'll be alright. You'll be alright in a moment—" Then, even more mildly, he added, "do not apologize."

Crystalline and moonlit—yet always so keenly gentle—eyes did not miss the way that Ember seemed to look... guilty, cowering down just that little bit. The old storyteller lamented over it for only a moment, composure briefly lost in his flickering back to—many words spoken about being a carnivore, all horrid and wretched and things that should not have ever been branded upon another living thing, much less a child—a different time.

He uttered carefully to the pupling, "don't apologize, either. You did your best." I hope that this doesn't become a trend— Mercy worried, both privately and for Pride; perhaps they should... keep an eye on it... ? Despite the irony of either of them shouldering quite a bit too much guilt for their own good—

After that, the pale beast skimmed past the subject; lingering on it would defeat the very purpose of his illusory distractions. The children were asking about it—as he'd hoped—and he regaled them as only a father could: "it is—real, that is. Just a stone's throw down, oh..." (he tipped his head in the direction of Tunnel I, high up in the cliffs and just barely visible at this angle) "that tunnel. There lies a sort of... large gemstone, that you see—it has been called the Spire for as long as history cares to remember. It is powerful, intense with its magic—one could say that it is the source of all life in this Cave." (Assuming that Astraea's ulterior motive of keeping the Caves alive had been true, even as he coaxed a stallion into its facets, sneering and spitting—) "A river cuts through the cave, too—water that moves quickly, perhaps too much so. If you would ever like to go, I'd only ask that you are careful around there, or that your father or I come."

All the while he spoke, silvery eyes trailed off towards Temperance's tail, and the peculiar crick of it. It most certainly seemed broken, and would require resetting, but he lacked both the dexterity and the quick movement to do such a thing properly. Oliver might be better for this—but the crow-dog wasn't about, and Mercy would not leave this little one until all was right.

And, so, he offered a branch to Temperance—"bite on this, if you must."—and in a swift movement, urged the sparse grasses beneath them to grip their tail on either side of the fracture. Soon as they had a hold—just to minimize the time that the cub had to react and squirm, possibly making things worse—Mercy urged them to pull in opposing directions, and then push more carefully. Slotting the vertebrae back into place, straightening the tail out—

Then, they wrapped around where the break once was, tightening to a particular point like a makeshift cast. Just to keep that part still.

Immediately after, the old lion murmured his own, soft apology to what he was sure would be more tears, "I had to be quick about it. The pain will pass soon, again." He hummed, lowering his head in case Temperance wanted close contact or some rasping licks down the back, and offered to the both of them, "do you want to see other places?"
@Temperance

Temperance gazed up at the tunnel, lifting a paw to wipe their eyes as they listened to Mercy's story. They were curious about Polaris, enough that they wanted to actually go see it.

"Can you take us?", they asked, "It looks nice, I want to see it."

Immediately they bit the stick and chewed on it as if they were given a toy, clueless as to what it was for. At the sudden pull and adjustment they yowled in pain, immediately trying to pull away, claws scrabbling at the dirt. They cried as they scampered away, tail tucked between their legs once they stopped, ears pinned and their fur standing up, big fat tears rolling down his face.

"... Ow!!", they said to Mercy, more tears falling.

But ultimately they came back, head low as they settled in their father's front paws, head buried in his mane, "That hurt!!"

Sure, it was necessary, but they still weren't happy about it. But as for their brother...

"Ember," they said, reaching out for him, "C'mere, I'm sorry."

They felt awful for him. They were the one being stupid and Ember was blaming himself for it.

@Ember

Ember sat blankly watching Temperance chew the stick. He wondered why Temperance got a stick, and not him--not in a jealous way, just a little sad--but he forgot all that when the cub's cry rang out. He scrambled back, spines and hackles all rising up in a confused mess; he started to bolt for Mercy for safety. But Mercy--had been the one to make Temperance cry out-? So he scrambled back, confused, then just stopped, looking briefly trapped and confused Where do I run?!

...Nowhere, apparently, because things were calm again--Mercy reassuring, Temperance upset but speaking. Emberheart, still wide-eyed, looked at them both. At Temperance's beckon he slunk closer to his sibling, stealing an uncertain glance at Mercy. It wasn't that he was afraid of him--he trusted Mercy--but he just wasn't sure what was going on.

The offer, though--that was good, and he glanced at Temperance before clearing his throat, and speaking softly.

"Yes," he managed, voice hoarse and quiet. "I want to see... other places. -What happened?" he managed, braving the question with another fearful raise of hackles--why had Temperance cried out?

He couldn't put together the grassy growth with pain; he had no idea what had happened.

@Mercy