The stone in Canis looked, at first, dusty. The thing within it--small and wet, and rarely twisting about inside--was a very slightly darker spot in the brown.

A tiny spark of magic snapped out, a little surge of snapping electricity giving the chrysalis its final push.

When it cracked, and began to spill its fluids, it almost looked gruesome--as though the stone itself had an open wound, reds and pinks wet with amniotic liquid. The tiny brown thing that tumbled out and landed ungracefully on the ground was less gruesome; it looked harmless, even silly.

Her ears were far too large, her paws oversized, her entire body absolutely tiny. She was like the dust again, tan dandelion fluff tamped down with wet. The first thing she did was pull her head out from beneath her body where she'd landed, lean back, and sneeze.

A pink tongue flashed out and cleaned her jaws, and yellow eyes opened and blinked around.

The coyote puppy stumbled up, after a moment, shivering a little with damp, and began to wander from her stone. Curiosity and wonder pushed her forward, her gaze wandering the ugly walls and bone-strewn ground as too-big paws took her in staggering little steps toward the Circuit.

Unfamiliar with the idea of language, her first attempt at calling out was a short, sharp yelp--which startled her, and she fell onto her rump again. Her ears pricked forward at the echo, though, and she pushed back up and tried again.

"YIP!" Her head tilted. Her tail wagged. She liked this noise. So she continued, her volume shockingly loud for something so tiny: a series of coyote-puppy yaps, barks and yowls, all ear-rendingly high-pitched.

"AHP-AP-AHP-AWOOOOOOO! ARF AHHRRRF! AF-AF-AF AAAAAOOOOOO!"

Her tail wagged faster, the sheer joy of making very loud noise filling her with excitement.

Hjalmar thinks, that even with it's lack of eyesight, it has a decent enough understanding of the caves. Or, at least, the ones that it needs to. Sometimes, though, things don't work the way he wants them to. It either gets lost in its own thoughts, or there's something else to distract it, and it takes the wrong turn from one place to the next.

This time it isn't any different. He knows where he had been planning to go- to the altar, guided by a constant, sinking worry that if he didn't his health would fade before his jobs were done, but it's the sudden noise that brings him to a stop, or close enough to it, save for the neurotic, habital clicking of his claws against the ground as he listens for it again. And hears it- the yapping of a Gembound.

The realization is enough to cause him to start moving, again, this time towards the sound, original goal pushed away in favor of the desperate need to have some sort of company. The yapping seems wordless, to Hjalmar, and yet it's something he doesn't give himself much of a chance to think about. If he questions his decissioon, he'll just have to question it later.

For now, though, he half-stalks into the cave with one last habitual click of his claw, the definition of obviously, painfully alert.

In stark contrast to Hjalmar's alertness was Coyote's oblivious, puppy bumbling. Already her capricious nature showed: she'd yipped and howled for a moment (hardly more than squeaks, really) and then stumbled back to her feet, cheerfully striking out into the unknown.

If Hjalmar was visible, yet, she did not notice him. Instead, on oversized and clumsy puppy feet, Coyote began to bound up the path, kicking up dust as she went. She paused only to shake more liquid from her fur, on instinct--the movement almost knocking her tiny frame over--and then set off again, soaked rat-tail wagging.

She tripped over a large bone partway up the path, and became distracted by it. Should the Valkhound spot her by now, he'd see a pup drop down, play-bowing to an inanimate object before rolling over, trying to wrestle with it. Given its size and the way her gnawing at it did absolutely nothing, one could correctly assume that the bone was winning.

She emitted tiny growls, too high-pitched to intimidate anything much larger than a mosquito, savaging the bone while rolling on the dusty rock.

Just a coyote pup, playing on the rock, unaware of Hjalmar's approach.

Luckily, nothing happened: a simple story, one easily told. When she scampered off, no contact had been made. Nothing sinister--but no new friendship, either. Lost potential? Perhaps, but at least she had escaped injury, by luck if nothing else.

@Hjalmar

exit due to inactivity