Beside Orion's throne, a sardonyx had taken root. Mud-brown, striated with chocolate and coffee cream hues, it was also translucent; the child within was visible as a faintly darker shape curled beneath its surface.

Now and again, the child seemed to stir, but she remained unconscious--right up until the thinning shell began to peel away.

When Acheron came awake, two pale dots became visible within the chrysalis: her eyes, blinking open, finding a sudden choking and stifling world around her. It felt safe, yes--but she could not breathe, and though she didn't know what breathing was--nor gemstone, nor what she herself was--she knew by a deep and panicking instinct that she needed out.

Little hooves struggled to kick, but there was no space to maneuver; she was tightly folded in the confines of the stone.

Fear.

Magic sparked up, blasted forth, cracking the thinning stone--and fluid rushed forth, the child spilling from the stone and onto the rock floor of Orion. She lay there--a wet and tangled mess of black fur etched with rust--and coughed, gasping and trembling in the cold.

The storms had been frequent the last couple cycles--a growing humidity had turned to showers, downpours that left puddles pooled throughout Orion and left that stale scent of metallic water lingering in the air. Today was no different; the light was dim, the air, damp. A heavy, steady rain was falling, so that Pride was soaked; rather than wander around in this, he'd settled in beside the Throne with ears laid flat. He was chewing his cud--vaguely aware of Mischief browsing somewhere nearby, at the back of his mind--when the sardonyx suddenly showed signs of stirring.

The stag jolted, eyes widening, and his chewing stopped. He tensed and leaned forward and those flattened ears at once cupped forward. Did I imagine that-? he wondered, and started to relax--and then the gemstone broke, giving him no further chance to reflect. His mind had only an instant to race back over the grief of the visions that this stone's former owner had left behind--the life and death of a dog Pride had never personally known--and then the new life that spilled forth was lying there, trembling in the wet, demanding his attention in the here-and-now.

He stood at once, unsteady with the speed of it, and hastened to nudge and lick at the child's wet fur. "Hello, little one," he greeted, his fluting voice kept quite soft. He stood over her as best he could, the rain cascading down his fur, to shield her.

He nudged again, and then settled back in on his knees, using his head and neck as her umbrella. "You're safe here," he assured her softly.

red deer img credit - dan seagrave

The warm touch, the sound of a voice, startled her from her new world of cold and wet. She did not yet know the world, did not know what made it up, didn't know that there were things that could move or warmth or light. Or dry, for that matter. She'd been here only a moment, and thus far knew: cold, dark, and wet.

So the sudden appearance of something wearm, white, and dry, drew her gaze in all its wide-eyed silver stare. She gazed up at Pride, her tiny mind trying to comprehend him--to decide if he were good, or bad. Then she opened her puppy mouth and--bleated.

It was a fawn's plaintive but deafening bleat, high-pitched and more like a "BLAAAAAAAH," than anything. Then she sneezed, and looked around.

Pride seemed okay. A caregiver, her instincts said. The rest of this place, though-?

She looked around beneath her shivering, ears cupping outward, blinking against the water streaming down her face.

"Dark," she half-whispered, too young and too stupid to find that frightening.

Pride's ears swept back at the piercing bleat, and he offered another nudge. Well-... its lungs are healthy, at least, he thought, amused. When she looked up and around, he followed her gaze. "This is Orion," he said, softly. He reached for his magic, too: perhaps he could use his old trick of jump-starting language alongside direct understanding. It came faint, but enough; he pushed some semblance of meaning toward her mind, alongside his words. And in turn, he could sense something of her mind: that she would be female, that she was not particularly afraid, that she was an empty vessel to this world.

"This is a cave. Orion. I am Pride, your father," he assured her. And some day, I will need to tell her of her stonegiver, he thought grimly--remembering the same conversations with Temperance and Ember. But that... that would be another day.

"You're safe with me," he reiterated, projecting sensations of warmth, safety, of family.

And then--tentative, gentle--"Do you know your name?"

red deer img credit - dan seagrave

The fawn-puppy stumbled from her knees to her hooves, then tottered, then fell back down. She huffed through her nose, turning pale gaze back on Pride. Her attention lingered as he spoke, and she blinked, head cocking to the side, as his magic touched her mind.

Pride. Father. Orion. Family. The thoughts came with the faintest touch of meaning, and she looked around, wondering what it all meant. Her mind was forming an idea of the world, now--of what it must be like. It seemed... nice.

"Ack," she spat, stumbling back up for a second attempt. This one worked, and she swayed, shaking, on tottering toddler legs. "Ack-er-on." A name. That was her. She was confident in it; it sounded right, and she gave no more thought to it. Instead she at once set out, as if intending to explore and conquer Orion. Her little tail gave a flick, and she hopped up on stiff legs--an inch or two--and nearly fell when she came back down.

Another attempt--a little hop--and she did fall over, flailing for a moment on her side.

Something at her back--between her shoulderblades--hurt. She didn't know what it was, but she bleated in distress and in protest.

Acheron. The name was clear enough in his fading link, and he tucked it warmly away. He was noticing the little things, now.

Noticing that her eyes were silver-white, like his. That the nubs of antlers were already sprouting from her head. That she had hooves--like his--and that she'd blasted from her chrysalis nearly as strongly as he had. Faint pride welled up in him, and he smiled just a little, pushing to his feet.

No magic, now--he'd used magic to lift a child in play, before, and nearly hurt them when it backfired. Instead he used his long head to try and gently nudge Acheron back upright. "Try again," he murmured softly, supportive. He wasn't aware that she was trying to use magic, of course; he thought she was just trying to walk.

"You can do it; take your time."

red deer img credit - dan seagrave

Try again.

Acheron didn't need telling twice. She didn't need telling once, really. She was stumbling back to her hooves, giving a little hop.

The Sardonyx between her shoulderblades, though she couldn't see it, glowed--brown, but with the light it was a sort of bright reddish orange. Next thing she knew, her little pronk--her stiff-legged hop--had bounced her off the ground like a rubber ball, sending her gently sailing through Orion's air. She landed with a clatter, unconcerned with her newfound ability for nearly flight. To her, it seemed natural, and with a thrust of legs--her head held high--she transformed the landing into a new leap across the cave floor.

Off she went--into the dark, and the rain--sailing in long and sweeping bounds, oblivious to the father scrambling to keep up behind her.

Bounce.

Pride blinked.

"Wait-"

The child was at risk of simply vanishing into the dark, and he gave chase at once, scrambling to catch up. Any soft thoughts of inheritance and family were lost to frantic focus. She couldn't outpace him, even so; he was fast, and he soon came up alongside her with a quizzical peer.

She knows my magic, he thought, and there was some surprise to it. When he'd hatched he'd known only that burst of power but this child-? She was already using two parts, two spells. Had she taken those from his knowledge? If he'd had a parent, would he have-

Focus! She'd swerved off left, and he hastened to change course. "Be careful," he urged her softly. Would she know when the magic ran out-? He was ready to catch her if she failed.

At least, he hoped he was.

Another part of his mind wondered how he could use this to teach the child. What does she eat? he wondered. He'd hunted for a wounded carnivore friend in the past, so it wasn't like he couldn't manage that. But it'd be easier for them both (and a little more pleasant) if she were an herbivore. He could also show her where to find water, or-...

She's freshly hatched, Pride, he told himself. Just let her enjoy the moment.

It was the sort of thought that Mercy might think. For a moment, Pride wondered if it were his.

red deer img credit - dan seagrave

She changed course upon seeing some form of light off in the distance. It was an abrupt switch, a fresh thread of magic sending her little leaps--weak-legged as they were--healthily sailing. Her magic had weakened somewhat but Acheron didn't notice, her full and puppy-like attention fixed firmly on this new "something."

When she got there, she found a glowing little stone among a cluster of plants. She slowed, and nosed it, staring in transfixed awe as it bobbed at her touch.

She wondered what it was. But--ahh; Pride was coming up behind her, and he was the Explainer of Things, right-? So she turned to him, peering up at him, blinking. "What... Is?" she managed.

Acheron was immediately proud of herself for this words, and straightened, tiny tail flicking.

Pride peered at her, then slid his gaze to the baubled stone. He set himself to explaining, gently nudging the hanging rock with his snout.

"It is... a stone, but made to glow--with magic," he answered. It wasn't his magic; it had been that of Mercurius, he assumed, or perhaps one of their children. "We all have magic--you have used yours, already," Pride went on. He kept his speech slow. He wasn't sure how much the child could yet understand.

He watched her for a moment, gently affectionate, amused at her antics thus far. She'll go far if she keeps this combination of boldness and curiosity, he decided, and hoped that it were true. Well--it would be good if she goes far, but does not get herself into trouble, the thought was amended.

He nodded upward, to thin air: a wisp of phosphorescent light flared into being, then bobbed there, flickering with cold, bright fire. "This is magic, too," he told Acheron quietly, then glanced to her.

Would she understand?

red deer img credit - dan seagrave