The face of the moonstone was scratched with the dust and pebbles that the wind whipped back and forth against it. It was pure luck alone that it was still standing, even in its little almost-shelter located underneath the slightest overhang of a rock. The pastel marble was covered in a thick layer of dust to hide it from view-- but the scars along its facets shone white like bone between cuts.

She had been awake inside it for a while, eyes open, drinking in the dark. Awake, but not entirely aware. It was utter randomness when the switch was flipped: when one second she was somewhere else, and then the next, she was here. Conscious. Looking. Thinking. Drowning?

There was a thick fluid all around her; her limbs, her mouth, her lungs. Drowning.

With a twist of her neck and spine backwards, she realised that she was confined to this space of thick water-- but not for long. Hairline cracks formed a latticework joining the gouges in the moonstone, splintering and spreading more and more with each hard kick from her little hind leg. Like glass, it shattered around her-- marbled blue-and-white crystals raining around her, and she cringed in the face of it.

It was wet, and then it was cold. Embryonic fluid pooled around puppy paws, and she gasped for air as the wind whipped her fur back and forth. She winced with this, too-- her shoulders hunched upwards, and her head dipped to try and protect her face and the marbled gemstone embedded in it, uncoordinated legs struggling to twist around.

Ahh... well, this was a lot to deal with, when you are seconds old.

The wind picked up, and her first survival instinct kicked in-- as her delicate, pink paws threatened to be lifted off the ground with the force of the distant twister, a sharp "wah!" escaped her throat. It wasn't eloquent: words were difficult when you were dealt so much stimulus in thirty seconds of being aware-- but perhaps it'd be just enough to alert some stranger that a puppy was struggling with too much wind.

@Nemesis

Nemesis had returned to her home after awakening from her stone. She had gasped for breath, shuttering in the cold of drying amniotic fluid, until the fire came back to her bones in full force. Sweat dripped off of her thick hide as Nemean explained a strange gesture to her. The pixie's voice droned in her ears like a bad memory of a queen who had faded into nothingness over the cycles, her dull blue stare going right through the Master.

A name had been whimpered from her lips, a weak cry for her love-- who had, once upon a time, always been there. When she had fallen, cast into the flames to be remade, Magdalena had been waiting on the other side of the wulfenite wall, calling for her. She should have known that when she awoke this time, it would be different. Yet, it shook her to the core. A bleeding wound that lingered, even cycles later.

It was no surprise that Nemesis had returned to her old stomping grounds. Monoceros was her birthplace, where she had been raised by the tempest of the Twister. Its blustering noise was a humming white noise that drowned out the sound of her breathing that might have otherwise made her mad. At least she had Hestia to keep her company, though the rest of her family had been scattered to the wind. The turtle-rhino could be a bit reclusive, but at least she had her daughter and the winds. The old wounds would scar, and she would be all the tougher for surviving them. It was ultimately important to put on a strong face for Hes, and so she did, living life as she always had.

Monoceros was quiet, that morning. Most mornings, actually. Ever since that strange group of... 'researchers' had moved on, well, barely anyone came to the dry, windy cavern. It wasn't like the old days, where she had to chase off ignorant lions every other week. These days it was maybe the occasional noisy bird who left her be. So when there was a cracking sound of stone shattering, Nemesis startled, stomping toward the source to investigate. Had a stalagmite fallen, or--

No, that was...

A little bundle of white fluff, soaked damp with fresh fluid that made her pale pink fur show through otherwise sparse skin. She was a child, crying out to anyone that would hear. As Nemesis approached, she slowed her pace, cautious not to frighten the newborn, and tried to make sense of the sight before her eyes. Lanky, fragile limbs, a long, delicate snout... and those pale, hazy eyes.

"Maggs...?"

Nemesis knew better. She knew this was not her Princess. But how could she not compare, and think that this small, precious life was a sign of a birth from the ashes. Where did she go? The thought throbbed in her head as she lowered her snout, snuffing at the child. Did she leave you behind...? For all that she tried to reach her inner flame to warm the air, she was too shaken.

There wasn't time to be quivering with a broken heart. The little one needed her to be the adult in this situation, and considering that when she had been born, Magdalena had come to her rescue... the cycle continued, on and on. It was her turn.

"Shhh, little one. You're safe. I got you," she promised, lowering to the ground to provide a physical wall against the wind and a warm body to find heat in, even if her Fire wasn't as forthcoming as she had hoped. "You're in the wrong place if you don't like the Wind," she chuffed with breathy humor. Whoever this new life was-- whatever spirit laid within her-- Nemesis believed too much in the connection of all things to believe it mere coincidence. What that meant for her love, however...

@Amalthea

Through the corner of her pale eyes, she saw a figure-- large and lumbering, but a sort of hazy grey. At first, she was afraid-- or perhaps intimidated was the better word? It was all the same, however, in that little moment of panic.

Another cry left her flushed-pink snout, and the puppy spent a moment pushing her face between her forelegs tighter, shaking against the wind, her eyes squeezed shut. Despite her swept-back ears sticking to the back of her skull, she could still hear the sounds of the wind, of footsteps, and--

A voice.

Light at the end of the tunnel, perhaps. The figure's voice broke through all the stress and the cold and the wet and the wind. The puppy opened her eyes and saw that they were closer. At this distance, she could see her more clearly: warm eyes and warm gemstones sticking out of their face. Their body was bulky and strong, warm. Their voice was comforting-- not only in drowning out all the bad, the overstimulation, but deep and rumbley like a cat's purr. A very large cat.

Nemesis's words weren't entirely processed through the puppy's mind, but eventually, milky nails skidded against the cave floor as she took her first few steps forward. Legs trembly, and mostly copying what she could see-- her face found Nemesis's leg first, before she went nestling into the rhino's side and loafed in much the similar way that she had: forelegs underneath her chest and legs splayed out behind her.

It wasn't an elegant impression. But it was an impression nonetheless.

Here, it was warm. The pup had a moment to settle and lick her paws. They, as she soon discovered, tasted gross-- dust and icky fluid still stuck to them. With fur still plastered thin to her quivering body, she settled against Nemesis and shut her eyes with a very long little huff for such a tiny thing.

Better. It was better. The wind that was rushing in her ears had dulled out to a low, constant thrum-- a lulling sort of drone that eased her limbs. As her eyes fell half-shut, she wondered, distantly, what other words this creature would say to her.

... and if she would understand them, this time.

@Nemesis

The babe, young and tender, fragile and oh so cold, came stumbling into her front leg. A tiny laugh, huffing through her lips, interrupted her murmuring, as she swept her head down to gently snuffle at the top of the little one's head.

No words came from her, quiet and whimpering. A fresh mind would take time to develop the ability to speak, though that said nothing of what wonderous thoughts lay behind those shimmering blue eyes. Was it Nemesis's imagination, or did the pup's gaze not quite fixate in that same, unseeing way her love had? She certainly saw motion, but

It was most certainly fate. For what was a knight without her princess to protect? The thought sent a fluttering sensation through her chest, but warmed her all the same. It was bitter and sweet, honey and valerian. The damp, white child clung to her side, giving only a few licks to her wet paws before regretting that choice.

"Oh dear," Nemesis murmured, "my little Magnolia, let me help you." And though a trinoceros's tongue was not the most effective tool to clean the delicate, silken fur, she worked at the back of the babe's scruff, getting at least some of the gunk from the otherwise plush fur.

And as she worked, the warmth in her lungs started to churn, and her calm, steady breathing puffed out gentle blusters of heated air, drying out the fur where she worked. Hopefully the child's shivering would stop soon enough, warmed by the living Fire that now protected her.

"What do you think, little one?" She wondered, continuing to speak softly to the child. It would be good for her mental growth, the mother in her believed. "We'll fight back the cold. You'll be safe and warm. As long as I'm here... You'll be able to grow strong." That was what Magdalena had been fixated on for so long. Would this child be the same? Frustrated by her weakness, wanting to be more-- when she was already perfection incarnate?

These thoughts spun around in her mind in an intoxicating, dizzy dance.

"I am Fire," she explained, "Others call me Nemesis. But you do not have to worry about all of that just yet..." A thought lingered through her mind, a trail of smoke that kept rising to the surface.

"How about a bit of storytime, little Magnolia?" She asked, "A story about a Princess and a Knight?" Oh, she would love to tell the story-- her words dripping with a saccharine love-sickness, a longing for a past life that had nearly been lost to time. Now, a new life was breathed into her, and the Fire in her heart roared like an inferno.

@Amalthea