He had yet to leave the cave he’d hatched in, and had no intention of doing so until he’d explored every inch of the place. Short stature made this a tall order - youth was not made to do so much studying, so much observation of lines in the ground and windblown dust particles. His pudgy, fluffy body was more well-suited to snacking on ample amounts of cave mice and napping in warm grass. He’d take up those luxuries, soon. Not today, but soon, he’d find himself looking less for oddities and more for the smell of something that tasted good.

Until then. Joyful stood in a peculiar pose, with one rear leg raised, one ear planted firmly to the ground of the cave. The winds of Monoceros buffeted him on the surface unlike in the still-aired oasis of the gorge, but he didn’t seem to mind so long as they didn’t blow so hard as to move him by force. The gusts only served to ruffle the overgrown sections of his choppy cub fur as he investigated. The cave floor did not offer him anything of interest in terms of sound. His head turned, not lifting from the dirt, moving until it was his nose pressed against the cave floor. Smell, then. Truth be told, he’d probably get just as good of a sense of what the cave floor smelled like if he left some room between his face and his target. Better, even. But much like his body, his brain was also not optimized for observation. Several short sniffs of the ground did not lead to the exciting revelation he’d hoped for; it led only to a sneezing fit so forceful it seated him until it was over, racking his body with dramatic shakes with each achoo!

Well, his inspection of this patch of ground was almost complete, having gotten a thorough experience of its appearance, its feeling, its lack of sound, and so far the most powerful, its smell - or, not its smell, merely its effects on his nose, which was similar enough. There was only one sense left to satisfy. Or, only one he was aware of. Returning to the optimal observation position he’d decided on earlier, Joyful’s face leaned once more towards the ground, tongue stuck out with the intention of getting a taste of whatever was in the dirt and hoping it was more interesting, for better or worse, than the sounds he was offered.

It was as though the world around him bloomed.

Life--glorious life, threading through every grain of dirt, spread in thin blossoming sheets along the walls, curling through the moister cracks in the stone underfoot and clustered in the shadowed reaches of the windswept cave's damper alcoves.

It was there--it had always been there--but what had looked like empty, dusty rock mere moments before was suddenly a life-filled paradise to his magical senses.

Strange, then, that he could not taste it. Or that, when the magic at last faded, he would be unable to see it, either. The omnipresent fungal life was flecks of mold and a thin dusting of spores, or tiny colonies of yeast: near-microscopic, certainly rarely visible to the naked eye, but everywhere.

What wonderful visions.

@Joyful

The unexpected experience of becoming so aware rendered him immobile, such a familiar feeling to him. In every bit of the cave he'd already inspected he'd overlooked all of this? In the moments he could sense it, he took in as much as he could - wasted efforts upon reflection. There was so much of it, memorizing where it was hardly mattered.

His ability to... see? Why not? His ability to see the invisible beings around his home was, he realized, temporary. A moment or two passed before the discovery released its hold on him. What his magical senses had just gone through had not left much room to also process taste - it was not slow to return, though, as the growths surrounding him faded back into their own realm. Being a child, the taste of dirt wasn't necessarily bothersome or gross, it just disappointed him so much in comparison to the other amazing sight he'd just witnessed. He spat out the grit and soil, far more difficult to get out of his mouth than his nose.

It wouldn't be an obstacle to his new goal: do that again. The moment his mouth was bearably clean, he reached out, trying to replicate the longing for something new he felt before he'd gotten his first view.

It was no less magnificent to witness a second time. Only his heightened expectations allowed him to overcome the joy he felt at witnessing the hidden creatures all over the world around him. It gave him the opportunity to, however briefly, properly survey the life he'd been introduced to. Understanding was still a stretch for him and that poor, suboptimal mind. Seeing, still, was much better than his former state of obliviousness. He'd decided as much, at least.

The longer he observed them, the more he pondered their existence. How similar he might be to them. When he'd reached into their world, had they too been stunned into immobility at the sight of his face against the floor above them? Or was his world forever open to them, with only room for one secret realm? If he could talk to them he'd have so many questions!

The if not being from a particular doubt that they would understand him, just a general disinterest in the ability. He dealt in feelings. He didn't know enough words to make speaking a priority. If he could communicate with them. He wanted so badly to interact with them. He was certain they had something to say.

The messages that trickled in from the senses of carpets upon carpets of mycelium would be new, perhaps overwhelming, but certainly fascinating.

This stretch of rock--light-baked and dry--felt like a swathe of hot, dry, irritated skin. It was hard to flourish, there. This thin bank, over by the river, though; it was a narrow band of heaven, a strip of cool damp where he the fungus could grow thickly, though the rise and fall of water inevitably cut away the lower edges. Variations in temperature, the patches of softer soil compared to hard rock, shadowed places safer from the bright heat--all of these came to him as though they were extensions of his own body. Somewhere in the distance, too--too faint to really pick out--the fungus went deeper, into a darker and damper place; but that was impossible to pinpoint, from here.

@Joyful

They told him the cave was a bajillion times bigger than he'd thought it was. They gave him a thorough lesson in the earth surrounding him, where they could survive and where they could thrive. He hadn't expected answers, much less all this feeling. He'd heard words, though very few. He understood it was the typical form of communication. But wouldn't it be cool if every conversation granted so much understanding? Certainly, he didn't understand. He was so new to truly get the experience, yet felt so much smarter for experiencing it - only without knowing about the concept of being smart.

He was taking in so much that if it wasn't for the adrenaline and happiness, his head might be pounding. Instead, he did a gleeful little dance in celebration, before bolting off to be with more. He headed for the coolest areas he'd felt, stopping in place when he felt damp soil beneath his paws. It was here. This was perfect.

Even once the visions and sensations of it faded, he felt it just from awareness. Of course, he couldn't truly know where any of it was without checking again. It simply was there, and he knew it was there, and he'd been able to connect to it somehow, no matter how little he really comprehended it. Baby laughter bubbled up from the enlightened cub, fighting to be heard over the wind as he flopped to the earth, rolling around in absolute joy.

He'd felt like he could fill most of his life with exploration of just one cave from the moment it had become his mission. The new world was incomparable. It would take several existences to feel everything it had to offer. His rolls slowed to a stop as he contemplated. Was that what life was? Days of exploring layered upon one another like all the strangeness he'd just seen? He could live for that.

To live for it, he'd have to live, and to live meant to eat something. His stomach reminded him abruptly and demandingly of the worldly necessity; he felt pulled away from his beloved discovery, back into the realm of the ending and mortal where he belonged. Surely there was food to be found in the windy cave, but if he was going to eat, he could at least also explore. His stomach led him to flop back over onto his legs, to run towards the nearest exit without thought or knowing. Maybe it would have been wiser to attempt hunting in his home territory, but if he were meant to be wise, that would've made its way into his name.

(exit Joyful)