Within a small rocky alcove, a chrysalis hatches. Kalama hatches with a bang. Her soft down is pressed against the hard oblong stone of her flint rock chrysalis, until finally she lashes out with a spurred leg. The chrysalis shatters into dust, stray sparks of orange glinting from where her spur hits the rock. She is left blinking on the dirt, soft down powdered with the dust of flint crystals. She hears the chirps and songs of lesser birds, and the world is rich and green and vibrant, but such beauty is lost on the newborn chick. After a few moments she shakes herself out, sneezing from the dust that falls. She tries to stand, wobbling on her fresh legs.

The chick falls almost immediately when the weight of her overgrown spurs drags her back down. The left one was throwing her balance off. At the very least, they break the chick’s fall. She finds herself rocking back on the overgrown things. She shakes herself out, and puffs out a breath. Kalama narrows her eyes in determination. She could do this. Kalama stands again. She manages to take a few wobbling steps forward, till she finds herself tumbling over a black rock that juts from the earth.

Kalama feels her frustration well up, and lets out an angry wailing twitter. Stupid spurs. Stupid rock. She slams her spur on the rock repeatedly, and then bright golden light pops. Sparks shoot out in a spray from the rock, and Kalama peeps in shock, falling onto her back. She blinks, chest falling and rising in a rapid pitter. She cautiously raises her foot to her face, eying the spur with fear and excitement in equal measures. Did I do that? She stands, shaking slightly, and slams her left spur back on the rock. Sparks shoot out once again, landing on grass and twigs, that miraculously dont catch.

Her pupil seems to glow in the light of the embers, and the charred scent in the air smells almost comforting. Realization dawns on the newborn gembound. It turned out her spur wasn’t useless. But she had more pressing matters. Like figuring out how walking worked. She fluffs herself out, and stands up again. She wobbles for a moment, but her balance holds, even with the massive spur throwing her balance off. She peeps in joy, and starts runs to run with the energy only found in newborn creatures. Her prance takes her off into a field of flowers, tall enough to rival her in size.

And then she finds herself face to face with a fat bee. It lounges on a pale flower, eyeing her with an air of disinterest. This is where she believes her troubles began. She blinks. It stares at her with black eyes. Then begins grooming itself. Was it ignoring her? She was twice the size of it, and it didn't see her as a threat. Fire kindles in her, and she opens her mouth to spit angry words at it, but all that comes out is a sharp peep. She blinks, and feels that same explosive anger rumble at the rude insect.

“Go die.” She managed to squeak out. For a moment she feels a spark of pride at her first words. She had wanted to say something more complex than that, but that’d gotten the point across. The bee doesn't seem to care. It flexes its mandibles, but doesn’t move. And then it resumed going its business, giving the flower its full attention as it drunk the nectar. That pisses her off. With an angry trill, Kalama charges the bee with her fuzzy wings spread, finally giving the insect the incentive to fly off. Kalama trips when her attack misses, and the embarrassment that comes with it does nothing but add fuel to the chick’s anger. The bee lands on a flower a bit farther away from the rowdy chick, having decided she was not worth the time. Kalama's anger reaches new heights.

“You mock me?” She shouts at the bee, throwing in all the intimidation her three minutes of life have granted her. Her anger reaches the tipping point, and she loses her newfound grasp on language, peeping her anger out as she chases the bee down, interspersed with the words ‘die’.

Quietly, Ayr's head pushed by the lichen draped over her den. Moonlit eyes traced over Eridanus, deer-like, before the pale unicorn stepped out into the room. She took another look around, wary, before trotting down the pathway and into the main area.

It was time for her daily ritual. She'd wake up, and walk around Eridanus, breathing in the sights and the smells and tending to the flowers. Making sure everything was going accordingly, and that the battlefield was recovering, before taking some breakfast back to her den with her.

It was very rare she'd see anyone on her morning stroll-- not that she minded, of course. Even though she'd promised Elspet to be more social, and to meet more people and intentionally interact, she still valued some quiet time for herself. It was in her nature to be reclusive, and that was often a difficult thing to break out of.

The silvery, horse-like creature weaved back and forth along the trees, brushing her pale face against the bark. "Good morning," she murmured to them, and the ferns and the flowers, until she reached a familiar field of flowers. She bent her head down, snuffling quietly at the plants, before she caught the sound of...

... er...

... 'angry child.'

At first, Ayr recoiled. As anyone might do, if they were minding their own business and heard someone chanting 'die' like it was a thing to do. But conflict downright scared her, and with the recent battle and things, she was worried-- if only for a moment --some Bloodberry or what-have-you had returned to Eridanus.

She'd have to get Mercy, for that.

Her long ears flicked back and forth, however-- reconsidering before she sprang away like a startled doe. The peeping among the angry cries of death-threats told her, or at least some deep part of her, that it wasn't anything that serious. A closer inspection to her surroundings directed her attention to a grey-striped chrysalis, and it finally clicked. Or, well, mostly clicked.

A newly-hatched looking for something to eat? She wondered, and her guess was.. perhaps half-right. She took one elegant step into the field, and then another, until she was trotting along to the general direction the squabbling had come from.

She dipped her head down as she got close, and called out. "Excuse me?" Her voice was gentle, melodical, somehow without her intending it to be. "Do you-- need help? Are you alright?"

@Kalama

Kalama froze, startled from hot anger to cold shock by a new voice behind her. The fact she had been mid stride doesn’t do her any good. The newly hatched chick trips over herself, watching as the bee buzzes away, still ignoring her. She sits there for a moment, chagrin flowing through her. One of the many flavors of anger Kalama would become accustomed to in her life. It was by far her least favorite.

“I no need help,” she says with a venomous bite to her squeaky voice. She stands back up upon wobbly legs. Shakes herself out to get rid of the dirt clinging to her dark down. She flaps her wings once, to make sure her gait is balanced. It's not, but it'll work.

"I let bee fly. I make bee fear me." She turns to direct a glare at the foolish creature who dared interrupt her. And stumbles back with a high pitched peep. when she realizes how much bigger it was than her. She turns her fear into a false bravado, and stamps her claws upon the earth. In the chick's point of view, the unicorn was as massive as a tree. And it's horn was pointed at her. She swallowed, and began to speak, trying to hide the slight tremor to her voice.

"You mock me, too? You think me afraid of big pointy thing?" She was very afraid of it. That was why she had to destroy it. With a trilling war peep, Kalama charges at the Unicorn.

Ayr's ears lifted with concern as the chick tripped over, stepping closer. "I'm very, very sorry," she stammered quickly, pale eyes wide. "I didn't mean to startle you." She tilted her head down to try and help Kalama back up, though the chick seemed to find her own way back to her talons.

To boot, she was loudly refusing help. Ayr, of course, knew this tone, and this stubbornness. Elspet was a problem-child. Instead, she nodded gently and stepped back to offer the gembound some space. "I see," she said, instead. "But I can get some fruit off the branches for you, if you wish."

She lifted her head briefly to look for the said fruit, though a long ear flicked at the chick's next words. Slowly, the unicorn tilted her head. "Why do you want the bee to fear you?" She asked quietly, her tone still gentle. She was curious, of course, why what was essentially a toddler would ever feel the need to be feared by something as trivial as a bee. She supposed, perhaps, the chick merely felt... scared?

Everyone felt scared, and she only had to learn that, surely. She opened her mouth to speak further, though soon she found there was a small chicken ramming into her skinny forelegs. "Well, no," she began, in a very reasonable tone, half-deciding that letting Kalama wear herself out on the unicorn was better than letting the chicken get herself stung by a bee. "Mocking people is most unkind, and I would, ah, if I may be as humble to say, like to consider myself a very nice individual."

She was saying this-- just as a reminder --as a very angry chicken attacked her legs.

"I've learned, you see, that treating people in the Caves how you wish to be treated yourself works out very well!" She sounded oddly cheerful about this. "And if I needed help, I would wish to be helped, yes? And so, if you need help, I would kindly offer it. Perhaps we should start with getting you something to eat? I know some very nice fruits, and if you'd like, you can sit on my back while we go and find some." The unicorn nodded gently.

@Kalama

The chick throws herself against the unicorn's legs for what felt like the twelfth time. She wheezes with her breaths, and the only thing that budges with her tackles is the fuzz upon the unicorn's fetlocks. She leans herself against the unicorn's legs for a moment. Just a moment. She needed to rest. She hears the unicorn question why Kalama would attack a bee.

“Bee mean.” She says, giving the unicorn a strange look, as if she'd asked her why grass grows, or rocks are hard. The confusion gives Kalama pause. She backs up, beak open in a pant from her relentless assault against the unicorn's hoof, and prepares to charge once more. The unicorn looked so thin, Kalama was baffled by its lack of reaction to her extremely powerful tackles.

And then Kalama catches the word 'fruit'. Everything between the question about the bee and before the word fruit had, quite frankly, gone through one ear and out the other of the baby chick. But fruit, now that had caught her attention. She perks up slightly, and started paying attention to the unicorn's words. She feels her mouth beginning to water. Kalama claps her beak once.

“Fine, twiggy.” She says, eying the unicorn suspiciously, as if it would suddenly decide to fight back against something a quarter of its size. The irony of the chick calling someone else twig legs was completely lost of her. She moves to the side of the unicorn, wobbly and tired, waiting for the bigger animal to lay down with impatient hops.

“But,” she tacks on, almost as an afterthought, between panting breaths. “Me win. And you no startle me.” She stumbles a bit with the 'startle' word, and quietly tucks it into her slowly growing vocabulary.

@Ayr

The unicorn's head tilted back, nose lifting up a few inches with a long 'ahhhh.' Of course the bee had been mean. Perhaps it had stung the chick already, though when Ayr looked down again to check over the newborn as she leaned into her legs, she didn't see anything that might indicate she was physically hurting, nor did she see any swelling or anything lodged into the chick's body.

Her gaze still followed Kalama as she backed up, and then paused. The offer of food seemed to have subdued her enough for now, it seemed. Everyone is food motivated, Ayr half-reminded herself as she dipped her head down. The rest of her thin, silver body followed in one fluid movement, settling among the flowers on the cave floor.

"Oh, there are creatures far more twig-like than I," she said. "There are very long and skinny creatures that look just like a branch. My name is Ayr-- and that might be a little easier for you to say, yes?" The unicorn's nose turned as she spoke, indicating Kalama to get on. She did not actually offer much further aid into getting up onto her back, however, half-aware that the chick would loudly refuse it and start accusing her of mocking her.

Ayr's head tilted again, and then nodded. "Of course," she replied simply. "You were very brave, yes."

@Kalama

Kalama began the task of climbing the unicorn. An already difficult task, compounded by her new legs and tenuous grasp of balance. She scrambled against her white hide for a couple of tries, trying to grasp at hairs with her beak.

Her frustration grew with each failed attempt, but she refused to show it, she didn't want to let the unicorn think that someone as powerful and collected as Kalama could struggle with such a small thing as height. She refused to even consider looking in the unicorn's direction. She was stoic and independent and extremely macho. The unicorn was probably very impressed by how cool Kalama was.

Her earlier conviction lasted a good fifteen seconds, when Ayr brought up the existence of even skinnier creatures. Kalama tilted her head at Ayr, trying to comprehend things more twiglike than her. It sounded strange, but she didn't have anything to dispute that with. She really, really wanted to, though. How could something so skinny move?

She tries and fails to consider the possibility. She doesn't bring it up, though, in fear of not looking as cool as Ayr very clearly thought she was.

“I say star-pull fine, Ayr.” She attempts to snap, but its missing a good chunk of its bite. Her valiant tussle against both the bee and Ayr's hoof have drained her energy.

She does, however, shake herself out very aggressively, nearly losing her balance at one point. After a couple more tries, involving some impressive platforming with the unicorn's forelimbs and her very own wings, she finally managed to scramble on top of the unicorn.

She wheezed a couple more times, swaying with exhaustion, before getting her breathing and body back under control. Ayr quickly decided she liked her position upon the unicorn's back. It made her feel very tall and important. She could squash all her opponents with a talon. All one of them. That bee would know her fury. She would find it, later, and enact her revenge. She would be the one to mock the bee.

Eat its flower. Eat all its flowers. Then eat the bee. The thoughts of such wanton violence filled Kalama with a sort of self satisfied warmth. That, and Ayr had helped fatten her ego. Ayr had called her brave. She settled into a self satisfied puffball with these thoughts in mind.

“Me Kalama.” She paused. If they were going to find fruit, Kalama needed to protect them. What if there were more bees where the fruit was? She couldn't imagine Ayr fighting more than three bees off. She would bear the weight of such tasks.

“How make things die?”

@Ayr