Nestled into a dip of the cave floor was chrysalis, cradled by lichens and grass. Moisture had collected over the surface fogging it's clear crystal shell. To any who might pass by over the development of the being within, they'd be given a glimpse into the development of a foal, two-third legs and the other third velvety fluff. As he grew he became more tightly fit, the ability to twist becoming increasingly limited. When once he might be able to kick around, he could now only squirm. It was unpleasant, and it was time.

The urge to stretch and twitch was strong. He wiggled and adjusted, then lurched as much as he could. It was becoming a frustrating process and he lurched around again. Cracks formed in his struggle. A hoof smacked the surface during his somewhat-erratic movements, causing it to finally collapse around him. A sharp inhale of his first breath was followed by a hearty little whinny.

His eyes adjusted quickly, thanks to his clear gem's inability to keep out light. Which meant all he had left to do was find his feet and locate some food! He stuck both front feet out and tried to pull himself off. He immediately toppled over sideways, back legs catching each other. He rolled to his other side, stretched his legs to feel them all, then carefully tucked them under. Once more, his front legs went out, he pulled, then rolled backwards. Something about this just wasn't working.

This time he shuffled his feet around, putting his back legs under then hoisting his butt upward. He wobbled, quickly widening his stance so he didn't go sideways. A pause as he waited for his balance. It worked! Now he just had to get the front end up. Determination set upon his face as he adjusted on his knees, then stuck a front leg out. It was a bit awkward, but thankfully he had no concept of "probably bad for your body." In one quick move, he put weight into the outstretched foot and tried to find his other front foot. Success!

The foal became overwhelmed with excitement. As quickly as he was on his feet, he lurched in an attempt to buck and sent himself rolling back to the ground. What the heck are legs, even? He was already getting tired. This whole process was a wildly complicated one, but he gave it another go. He repeated all his steps to get on his feet as last time, successfully, except this time he restrained his excitement. Now what? He stared at the ground, realizing that now that he wouldn't be able to reach the grass on the ground. But he didn't want to have to figure out standing, again.

Did... he even have teeth? Small ones, as he discovered rubbing his tongue along the inside of his mouth, exploring it as far as his crystal would allow. At least he had teeth. Now..... If only he could work out everything else.

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Within the cradle of lichens, a shadow haunted. As of late the black shuck had taken to pacing the cavern; following the rivulets that ran down the stones and ghosting through the spaces between. Days were dominated by the cascades. Lunar sight touched upon that which was contained within but form never strayed beyond. (Not yet.) Often the moments - the hours - passed with little differentiation. Memory replayed behind sight, hunger haunted back of throat and teeth ached. One day was bound to be distinct; today.

Kazgut had situated himself on a knoll (sitting there upright) - when sound rang above the doldrum background static of the roaring water. Head tilted, ears orienting to better catch the sound. Body soon followed. Lean form moved, slinking along the undulating soils. Beneath ink coat muscles rippled. An awakening. The sound was placed in memory, distinct; reminding him of a brother lost now to him.

Following senses; nose and eyes keen, the churchyard grim soon found that which he had been searching for. Pausing at some distance, the dog observed. (Observed the rush of energy, movement and tumble!) A foal. Clumsy and uncoordinated upon new legs; standing now stock-still and unmoved.

"Giving up so soon?" Kazgut asked simply, voice resonating through the space that separated them. It was not his intention to alarm the small one, so he did not approach; not knowing if predation was a concept known. But the ungulate would have to walk, regardless of how many times he would fall. (And he would fall.)

---

@OAKEN

It felt like he'd already been standing there for ages, but it'd merely been seconds. His gaze at the green was contemplative, head lowering then bobbling slowly back and forth, testing his own balance. He tried to puzzle out how to manage his next move. Did he try bending back down to it? Maybe if he turned his head just right--

The young foal's head shot up and his tail tucked when the voice struck his ears, surprising him a little. Widened eyes turned toward the large canine, nostrils flaring out to nervously take in the new scent. Everything was so unfamiliar, so strange and - quite honestly - scary. More importantly, however, he seemed to master the art of legs. Oaken squinted a little, examining the posture and anatomy of the new acquaintance. Something about this whole proportion thing seemed a little... unfair.

In short order, little Oaken assessed the situation and decided this canine was just an affront to his forward progress. He stuck the end of his tongue out at the black brute, then went back to work. Dropping his head back down as far as it would reach, he tried to get his lips to contribute to the effort. Alas, no amount of lip wiggling was getting his face any closer to the good stuff.

Straightening up, a deterred expression overtook him. There was something else he could try, but he suddenly worried about collapsing and looking foolish. Sneakily, he peeked over at the dog, then quickly back at the grass. He sharply inhaled, then spread his front feet a little, and once again reached for his grass. Realistically, he wasn't quite there, but he couldn't risk it. He kept reaching... and reaching. The tickle of the blades were right there. He made a move to widen his stance, placed his foot directly on a loose rock, and promptly face-planted. Legs went in every direction, with his tail swinging around in frustration.

Oaken was very much over all of it! He squealed as he rolled to his belly and jumped back to his feet, throwing himself straight into a tantrum of straight-legged bucking that looked more like a four-footed stomp. It lasted only a moment; he soon settled onto all of his hooves and suckled on his own tongue, already worn out from his own world of complex problems.

On wobbly legs, the new gembound foal cautiously approached the onlooking stranger, sniffing the air around him suspiciously. He wasn't too sure about getting close enough to get a real good sniff, opting for instead for understanding his own curiosity from a distance. Words, at this time, were not to by found in his throat, but his ear was quite keen for them. His blue eyes locked onto the mysterious haze before him, wondering so wildly what he was.

@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Roar of the waterfall filled the air where words did not. Unmoving, the black shuck continued silent observation, as though by sheer lack of motion he could bleed into the shadows that cut jagged from the rocks above. More importantly, he seemed to have frightened the little creature; if widened eyes, flared nostrils and nervous flickers of eyes. Ears pricked, as though to detect the heartbeat that pounded within that ribcage. Still Kazgut did not move, letting the foal come to conclusions readily. (And he was subsequently ignored; after the little one stuck out his tongue at him.) Delightful.

Posture shifted then, when eyes no longer focused upon he. Step was taken, to the side, to get better view of just what the foal was attempting to do. Graze. Must be hungry. Although the thought of grass was in no way appetizing to the dog, he could remember the hunger after emergence. Cavernous. As the foal attempted to splay legs - legs which were disproportionately long (made for fleeing?) - he watched keen. It seemed strange that the world would create such a creature - one that could barely feed itself. Kazgut stiffened as the child faceplanted. (Part of him wished to laugh, but the other worried over harm done.)

The subsequent tantrum assured the grim that no lasting harm had been done. A breath was let out that he did not realize he had been holding. Perhaps he should go try and fetch Vyette - she would be a better source of confidence for the little creature. (As amusing as it was to watch the foal try to feed.) He was drawn from these thoughts when attention was again turned to him. Again, Kazgut froze as the little one began to approach. (All wide eyes, flared nostrils, and curiosity.)

"Brave, aren't you?" He voiced in hush, not raising such above a low monotone. Shifting posture for something a bit less daunting, the dog laid down upon the knoll (to appear smaller to the one before him - less of a threat). Own nostrils filled with the strange scent of newness that lingered over the foal. A life not yet lived. "That will serve you well."

---

@OAKEN

The depth of the voice was soothing, but foreign to him. All the muffled noises he heard in his chrysalis, but such clarity in softly spoken words was not among them. He stretched his head toward the dog and tilted his head with more curiosity than initially. He nearly missed the next flow of words, for he was emboldening himself to touch that blackness with his nose. And he did. Oaken walked right up to the dog and prodded him on the back with a velvet nose, inhaling hairs into his big nostrils. He jerked and shook his head, trying to snort away the itchy tickles.

The youth went back for more, but this time only brushed the ends of the fur against his lips. It was weird, tickling. He flicked his tail, pinned his ears, jumping backwards before mock-striking at Kazgut. From there, he bolted away, running quick and wild circles around his hatching area. Right up until he clumsily snagged one foot on the other on a sharp zig-zag. He slid to the dirt, an inquisitive 'how did that happen' plastered on his face. Oaken bounced back to his feet and trotted around, head and tail high.

^{He definitely meant to do that.}

Settling down again, Oaken finally found his new, ever-awkward grazing stance. Legs sprawled out, he clamped his barely-surfaced teeth on grass and yanked them up, dirt and roots and all. The faces he made trying to get it into his mouth almost matched the silliness of his face attempting to eat the attached. Being able to navigate the task of digesting plant matter would have to be a process much like navigating feet. It would take time to master it.

A few bites in, he wandered back to his new assumed-friend, much more confidently than before. One leg went over the back of Kazgut and the body of the foal flopped down, any concept of boundaries long lost, along with his suspicions.

@Kazgut

Kazgut

I will come to be — I will submerge myself in the body of the earth, sink my teeth into its flesh; and rise in my own skin.

Isolation had strange effects. The black shuck was uncertain on how to react to the foal; and thus aired on the side of non-reaction. Still, he could admit to being drawn in by the curiosity (the want for understanding!) that motivated the young gembound. Staying still, he allowed the small one the inspection. Skin prickled at the unexpected touch (although the contact was not necessarily unwelcome; simply surprising). On repeat, the foal prodded the dog; burying little face in fur and seeming to give him a once-over more thoroughly. Children are strange, Kazgut found self thinking ...

... even more so when the foal decided to make play battle! The churchyard grim sat in a sort of stuphor as the little one ran circles about the room. (Seeming, then, to have gotten the hang of the new limbs-) Nearly. Once more, the dog flinched as a tumble was made. The foal seemed confused how this could keep happening and Kazgut offered no explanation. It was fascinating to see the way that mind processed surroundings; wished to play, to explore ... to see what could be found within the walls. (Prancing, even, at all the life could afford him!)

The foal grazed. Kazgut was glad of it; not wanting to worry if the youngling could feed itself. Yet still there was a grain of worry - as eyes moved about the cavern; listening to the waterfall. Lately the caverns had been so very quiet ... it was not encouraging. (Feast proceeded famine.) The black shuck was not aged, nor wise - no worldly; but the world had been kind enough to afford him places to hide in the meantime.

No movement was made, still. A statuette, a guard standing watch, Kazgut welcomed the young one with a simple acknowledgement. Even as the foal proceeded to lay upon him. "Comfortable?" He asked quietly, turning head to allow own nose to sniff at the little being. Watching lashed fan eyes.

Likely the foal was tired from its wild chase about; from its hatching, too - emergence. The dog closed eyes for a moment, imagining the darkness creeping in - imagining the shadows forming about them to cradle them in a welcoming embrace ...

Ah, the surroundings did dim, shuddering with shadows. For the moment, the two were cloaked within a muffled web of night; fading from the ambiance. To encourage rest, quiet.

As eyes reopened, taking in the small figure so draped about him. "I am Kazgut," he told the little one quietly, as though in secret.

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@OAKEN