Callum's adventures in search of more food had brought him here, to Cepheus. He had gone further than he had before, and eventually arrived at this cave with a rather strange setting. While the previous caves had been most definitely natural, there was something about this place that felt... artificial. The dragon made a beeline for the river, gulping down the water to quench his thirst. Now that he was here he might as well just- Callum placed himself smack dab in the middle of the river, feeling the water run over him. Now that was refreshing.
Now all he needed was what he came here for. Food. His eyes cut across the landscape, searching for any birds he could eat. Rivers were often a good source of this kind of prey, so it shouldn't be too hard to find some to hunt.

A further ways up the same river, a small brown puppy was busy cleaning her fur in the water.

This was a regular routine, quickly established when Eden had figured out two things about living in the nearby gardens: that playing in and among the flowers and smelling their sweet petals meant those petals and dirt and other things ended up dirtying her fur, and that she didn't like it when her fur was dirty. She wanted to be like the deer who she saw grazing at the grass sometimes: pristine and fancy and moving so slow and gently they were like flowers swaying in the breeze.

So, she sat in the gentle stream, splashing in it with her paws and wagging her tiny tail and generally getting herself quite wet, but only in an elegant way. Like the deer.

Her focus on this task was quickly interrupted by the sight of movement some ways downriver. She turned her head to see something—well, something quite bright, was her first thought. Eden had never seen that shade of orange before. Certainly he looked nothing like the deer, much bigger, but the voidlight shined beautifully on him. Her soft splashing in the river quickly ceased as she padded over to the nearby bank and sat herself down, watching.

She didn't dare to get too close, of course. There was something about creatures so much larger than her that made her feel like it was better to keep her distance. (And as a little, new-hatched puppy, many things were much bigger than her.) But she admired him from afar.

by request

Some distance off, floating pristine on mirror-still water, a flock of eleven Hellswans wound their way along one of the voidlit curves of The Gentle River. Narrow and shallow, the water held the reflection of the white birds as they passed.

Little tufted ears topped graceful, arching necks; the four glowing, silvery eyes of each swan cast sparkling light on the water below. Pale grey legs swept at the water, webbed feet driving them at an unhurried pace. Now and then one would dip its head below the surface, dabbling at the foliage near the bottom. Thus, they served their purpose: keeping the River neatly trimmed from overgrowth, presentable to guests. Of course, they were a sort of decor all their own, beautiful and delicate-looking.

Looks, of course, could be quite deceiving. A pond in the heart of Chaos was unlikely to host anything remotely harmless, no matter how beautiful it seemed.

@Callum

Callum waited in place once he caught sight of the Hellswans. They were much bigger than the sparrows and mice he was used to catching easily. His original plan of just gulping one down would not work. This would require some effort. First things first, he knew that he stood out, his bright cheeto orange a stark contrast among the blue of the water. He would have to strike quickly if he wanted to have the element of surprise. They were just some swans, although much bigger than any other bird he had encountered. It should be easy for him to just dive in and snatch one up, right?
The dragon waited for the swans to round the bend before taking off into the air, circling for a moment, then suddenly diving downwards in an attempt to snatch up a Hellswan in his claws and lift it into the air.

The Hellswan snagged screeched, a horrible and suitably hellish, ear-splitting sound. For an instant, as it was pulled bodily from its peaceful river in a spray of water, the other Hellswans were taken by surprise--Callum had a brief moment to drag his prey skyward as they flinched back and registered what had happened.

And then, as one, they echoed the first one's screech--but with rage, a cacophony of threat swiftly joined by the heavy thumps of the beating of ten pairs of wings. One after another they rose, giving chase. If Callum happened to glance behind--and Eden would surely see from her own vantage point--the Hellswans were opening their mouths.

That wasn't to say that the delicate bills were open, no: their entire long necks were gaping wide, rows of lamprey-like teeth gleaming in furious snarls. Should they catch the dragon hybrid, he would learn the feeling of razor fangs deeply raking his hide. They did not have the jaw power to tear away chunks, no, but they would savage his flesh if they could, struggling to get him to drop their companion... and to teach him a lesson he would not soon forget.

The bird that Callum had initially grabbed, in the meantime, was flapping wildly--struggling, unable to free itself from the far larger dragon's grasp. Its ten foot or so wingspan flailed, and its throat and head--held closed by Callum's claws--could not open to bite at him.

For now, so long as the dragon did not stop until he were truly out of sight, the Hellswans would lose him: but should he stop too soon, or draw near the Hellswans again, he might find himself in very real danger.

@Eden

There are many lessons a child must learn as they grow. Lessons taught from parents, from elders; lessons borne of experience, whether personal or witnessed second-hand.

The lesson Eden learns as she sits by the stream and watches the dragon come to a strangely still stop is this: the lesson of predation.

Of course she is not innocent to the thought of swallowing down little creatures for her next meal. But that was a distant, small thing, hardly bloody except for the occasional smear on the muzzle. She'd spent time staring into this very river, looking for small silvered shadows of fish to catch. But there is a difference, between the little minnows and the elegant, shining swans she'd admired from afar just as much as the dragon himself.

The difference is this: the swans fight.

She'd thought the birds sweet, pretty. She liked how their eyes glow, little fireflies (did she know what a firefly was?) in the voidlight.

It all happens so quickly. The dragon spreads his large, leathery wings and takes flight, for a moment a small tapestry against the sky. She stares—

—and finds she cannot stop staring, as so suddenly he pitches downward and there is a bird in his claws and the swans, the pretty, soft little swans are screaming.

They cry out—they cry out, marring the gentle, quiet sounds of Cepheus—marring their bodies as necks split open and she finds herself rooted to the ground in surprise, shock, (awe?) as the dragon turns in the air and drags one of the flock up with him.

There are no words for her, watching. She doesn't know any. Her fur bristles on end and every little-pup instinct in her body is screaming run, hide, flee but she can't move.

She can only watch as the dragon's wings beat against the sky and bear witness to the question of whether or not he'll manage to outfly the pretty, pretty alabaster-soft birds with their pretty, pretty, razor-sharp fangs.

@Callum

Callum was getting flashbacks to his encounter with the meadow deer as he dove down. Was this a good idea? And he was alone this time. There was no one to help him if he messed this up. But all these thoughts were evaporated in a second. They were just swans! Unusually large birds!
His claws neared, feet turned to inches, inches to-
FLY! FLY FOR YOUR LIFE! The swans that had been so peaceful and docile looking moments before had morphed into monsters, monsters that screeched. Callum wanted to cover his ears, but he could not. His paws were fastened securely around the Hellswan's neck, and it took all his strength to keep his grip on it.
He couldn't believe he was doing this! He was doing it! Glancing back only once gave him all the motivation he needed to get the hell out of there. The dragon flew faster than he had even flown before, and slowly, the Hellswans disappeared from sight. He was safe. He had done it.
During the whole encounter, he had not noticed Eden. But if he had, he would've been proud that he had taught it a valuable lesson, or at least provided entertainment. Who knows, he may come back sometime in the future if he found he enjoyed the taste of Hellswan. Perhaps he would notice the wolf next time if he weren't so focused on his stupid ideas.

@Eden

She didn't think such big birds would be able to fly like that.

She didn't think anyone would ever be able to outfly a screeching crowd of feather and fang like that, not when they all seem so insistently out for the dragon's blood. Not when they all seem so angry. She'd never call a lesser angry before, not before now, but with their screams ringing in her ears all she can think about is their anger.

And the single one of their flock hanging from the dragon's claws, tooth-lined neck held tight so the bird can do nothing more but flail, ivory wings beating without effect. Even in the talons of a predator, it still looks so beautiful.

As quickly as it'd happened, the dragon is gone, with only the sounds of the bird's vicious calls in the distance to mark that it had happened at all.

Eden sits there for a while, shaken, but eventually finds it in her to stand up. The river's soft bubbling nearby suddenly doesn't seem very appealing.

I'd like to go home now, she thinks, distantly. It's not that she's scared, not really—it all happened so fast, and so far away, and nobody involved really even looked at her.

It's just. It's just that it was a lot, is all. She doesn't know how to feel about it; her little, precious world turned on its head by the idea of. Everything that just happened.

With a tiny, shaky breath, she makes herself turn away from the river and walk back to the gardens.

;;exit Eden

Once he was safely out of sight, Callum landed with his catch. By now his paws had grown rather tired from holding the struggling bird, and he should put it out of its misery anyways. But as he loosened his grip, he forgot that the thing had TEETH. It managed to get ahold of his arm, but Callum quickly finished it off with a bite to the neck. Man that thing had feathers. And a hell of a mouth. Now his arm was bleeding.
As his adrenaline faded away, he started to realize what had really happened. He had caught a chonker of a white bird! Callum took some time to clear away the feathers before biting into his catch. It was more meat than a regular bird provided. He relished the taste, though didn't find it much different than any other bird. It was just bigger. And more dangerous to catch. Oh well! He had done it, and felt rather proud of himself for doing so too. Just another step on his mission to one day kill those meadow deer.
As he was eating, he felt himself bite down on something hard, nearly breaking his tooth. It was a gemstone. It wasn't in pristine condition, and not too large either, but it was something. And it was shiny. He would store this away with his other stone that he had gained from the weird creature that had taken his rabbits. Well, this cave seemed alright. Perhaps he should stick around this area longer. For now, with a full stomach and treasure, he would leave.

Exit Callum