BAROQUE SONGCAT

Baroque had no idea where his best friend in the entire world had gone. Thistle was missing, his sisters were busy,...... and Nova-- well, Nova had stormed off to find Thistle outside of home and refused to wait up for him. The baby boy had searched up and down in Pisces for the light of his life, but to no avail. No matter where he looked, there was no Thistle. Something had happened to her, he was convinced of it. He had told his parents, but they thought she was probably just with Nova, and probably just fine. She was tough, Baro told himself, she'd be okay without him.

But he wouldn't be okay without her. Already his face was stuffy, snot dripping from his nose even as he fought back tears. Half of his life he had spent with Thistle, and he couldn't shake the horrible, dreadful feeling that his best friend was gone forever.

Afraid that his sisters would see him crying, or worse, his big brother Quintus-- boy, that lion was always disappointed in him for being a baby-- the bear retreated into the empty den behind the waterfall. A big black cat used to live here, but he hadn't returned after the meeting, so for now it was a safe place for the grizzly lion to hide and cry without anyone overhearing him. Thistle would be back soon, he told himself. She would come back. She just had to.

Hawthorne lay sprawled by the edge of the waterfall's lagoon, staring into its depths lazily, tips of his ears touching the water. The thunderous noise had lulled him into a sunbathing doze, and stick-thin limbs were spread out against stone in a strange array that looked more impossible than comfortable. He'd tried to go on an adventure, really, but some days it was more fun to just nap and think up his own stories from dreams. The one that swam in his mind now was strange - almost too realistic. His mom, but wrong, not glowing but an inky black stain on a golden background, just... staring at him.

But not gentle, or an attempt a peace offering against his nigh-overwhelming, instinctual fear. No, she looked ready to rip his throat out with her teeth. Then she was shifting, warping into something with too many limbs and wings and it was wrong, and Hawthorne woke up with a prickle at the back of his eye and a lump in his throat, swallowing convulsively. "Doesn't mean anything," he finally panted out, whispering, screwing his eye shut against the vision. "'s s-stupid. Just a d-dream."

For once, his stutter was fueled by pure disbelief.

A noise broke through the roar of the falls - someone... crying? The tiny buck rubbed at his own eye with a bony ankle, slowly getting up, shakily trotting to the backside of the lagoon's source. There was an opening into some sort of den, hidden from plain sight by the rushing water, and Hawthorne slunk closer, stopping just outside, too frightened to peer in, shaken by the dream and the prospect of the stranger being big. Or mean. Or big and mean.

"U-uh. H-hello?"

BAROQUE SONGCAT

A noise broke the babe's none too gentle sobs. It ricocheted off of the walls and to his ears and his tail went .............thunk as obsidian hit slate, his ears perking. Fur bristling, the child turned his head and felt his magic jolt through his body.

For a split second, the air fell still, the roar of the waterfall clipping in his ears. He shook it off quickly, trembling, as he tried to find the source of the voice hidden away in the entrance. "W-w-who's there?" He asked in a timidly quiet voice, his tail curling around his paws. He felt the strap of obsidian lay across his his paws. He tried to swallow his tears, but he simply didn't have the time to calm down. Whoever it was, they were going to see he was a big huge baby.

"I-it's just me, Baroque... W-who's there? H-hello?" He stammered, fur pricking along his shoulders. Was it one of his parent's friends? The voice had sounded, if he wasn't mistaken, just like a child. Like Thistle or Nova-- okay, more like Thistle... Or... A younger Bartos? That seemed unlikely. His ears laid back against his skull as he waited, struggling with the blobs of salt water in his big blue eyes.

Whatever it was, it was thumping around inside the den, making Hawthorne skitter back a few steps, coral-pink hooves clicking on the slick stone floor. It didn't sound mean, at least, asking who he was, and the buck slunk back towards the den, eyeing the opening like it had teeth and a temper. Slowly, gently, he tapped one hoof over the line, pulling it back just as quickly. When nothing charged after it, he tried again, startling back as more words issued from the den, distorted by distress.

Rounded ears perked forward, and the buck blinked, slowly sinking to the ground and slowly slinking to the den's entrance, finally popping his head through to sniff, a hesitant, strangled purr issuing from his chest. "B-Baroque's a n-nice name," he offered, long, fluffy tail wiggling happily at the sight of not a monster, but another cub, with rounded ears and brown fur and a long tail. Honestly, he would've believed this was his brother more than the white buck.

"I-I'm H-Hawthorne!" For a moment, his bravery fled, and he blushed hot, absently scratching at a tear-stained cheek, the creamy fur sticking up haphazardly. "U-uh. A-are ya h-hurt? 'Cause I-I heard s-somebody cryin'," the tiny cat-deer offered, blinking in lieu of bringing up the obvious, considering they both looked fresh out of a sobbing contest.

BAROQUE SONGCAT

Baroque wasn't sure what he was seeing at first. The creature was bathed in a light, golden ginger hue, with long.............. lanky legs. Frankly, the boy looked like Thistle, at least in silhouette. Baroque didn't mistake them for a second, of course; if it was Thistle she would have come bouncing in and the tears would magically wash away like they always did.

No, this was a stranger. A really beautiful, handsome stranger. His ears twitched as he heard the gentle, stuttering purr from the not-quiet-fawn, taking in the child's name. "H-hi, Hawthorne..." It was a bit early to be giving anyone nicknames, so he did his best to pronounce the fellow child's name. It was a lovely name.

There were tear stains on the tall baby's fur. He had been crying too? Baroque nearly felt flustered as the boy said he heard someone crying-- but, but, Haw' had been teary eyed too! Why? Immediately, an urge to protect the boy swelled up in his chest as he realized he recognized that blue in the kid's eye. "... B..Bartos," he mumbled to himself, catching the stripes through the pale, radiant fur.

Quickly, though, Baro stumbled out an answer. He felt rather safe telling the truth-- Haw' looked like a good kid and he seemed really nice and actually concerned. Thistle would love him, if she was there. The tears started up again, and he looked away, trembling as he answered. "M-m-my fr..friend is... missing... And I'm... I'm too much of a ss-scared-dy-cat t-to go look for her..."

The purr rumbled louder at the returned greeting, and Hawthorne slowly inched the rest of the way into the den, standing up and twirling on the spot, taking in the hideaway with a fascinated grin. Backing off the proverbial edge to a no-doubt spectacular sobbing fest, the tiny buck trotted closer to Baroque, plopping down to sit in front of him, a tiny, excited gasp escaping him at the name the cub whispered. "H-how d-do'ya know my d-dad?"

Unfortunately, it seemed the tears from earlier hadn't fled both of them, and Hawthorne shrunk a little, slumped to make himself smaller and - hopefully - less intimidating, leaning forward, hesitating, before bumping his nose into Baroque's shoulder gently, whiskers twitching in shared distress. It was about all he could do for the moment - the den was nice and cozy, but it seemed bereft of anything to make glow. "W-when did y-ya see her l-last?"

Tiny, growing fangs clicked together as he pulled back, trying keep up his purr and think at the same time. After all, he'd thought Wist had gone missing before, but then she'd turn up hours later, off on some adventure without him. Hopefully this would be the same. Somehow, judging by the tears, Hawthorne doubted it, tail flicking from side to side, pushing his forehead into Baroque's chin gently. "I-it'll be o-okay! W-we can f-find her!"

Well, with his dad's help, anyway. His dad was pretty great at everything, being a Knight and all, so why wouldn't he be able to find the cub's friend?

BAROQUE SONGCAT

"He's friends with my dad," Baroque mumbled, raising a paw to rub over his gushing eye ducts. It was embarrassing ....as heck to be blubbering so much, but the boy seemed so kind and gentle that at least it wasn't getting worse. Hawthorne seemed to think that they could find Thistle, but the grizzly lion cub knew that if she wasn't in Pisces-- and he had checked, over and over-- then there was nothing that they could do. Barry definitely didn't want to be responsible for a monster eating Hawthorne, and without Thistle to make him brave, the big baby was sure that was what was going to happen.

Swallowing hard, he tried to think back to when he last saw Thistle, to tell Hawthorne, even if he knew it was impossible. His gem flickered, a deep violet shimmer flashing through it, but the boy realized he was tugging on his magic and stopped the visions before they came flooding to his mind. Looking away, his tail twitched and he started to stammer out his answer, "Y-yesterday, my dad called me away from our game of treasure hunt, so we could do a Father-Son bonding thingie-- H-He really likes doing that stuff, and when we were done, Thistle wasn't anywhere. It was just over by the mossy hills, I-I... S-she usually doesn't stay away this long."

His ears pressed back against his skull as he looked back towards the kitten, a pathetically broken crackle of a purr in his chest. "I-I've looked everywhere in Pisces... W-which means sh-she must be... Out there." His claws dug into the stone, reflexively, as he thought of the danger that Thistle must have been without him there to scare away the monsters... And without her, he wouldn't be brave enough to scare away any monster.