She had slept in the tree den again, heartbroken that Tenn wasn't here. Again. Her dreams were full of troubled images and laughing faces and her fingers were clenched as the dream turned into a nightmare of her trying to help someone and her plants ripping into them while all the on-lookers who whispered her name with a hushed breath all called out for her blood and said she was a black-furred monster. They chased her away as the faces all merged together, and they screamed like sirens all around her, and she woke up with a start.

Pain bloomed in her hand, and she looked to see that her sharp gem had sliced up the palm of her hand again. She hissed under her breath - it had cut the stitches there of the cut that was already there, and the moss where she had touched was soaking up the blood. She sighed and asked her magic to help with the healing.

But the image and the fear of ripping apart the gem who asked her for healing was still so raw in her mind, and when the tiny little tendrils sprouted from her skin to come together, they paused, listening to her mind, and followed the mental image to a T, ripping open the skin of her hand and digging in and pulling her palm apart, and she screamed and ripped the plants out of her skin and scrambled with her back to the walls, looking at her hand that was entirely skin-less now.

The moss was splattered with blood now. Her breath was ragged, her fur was so standing on end that she resembled a puff ball more than anything, and her eyes were so huge with fear.

Slowly, reason and rationality returned to her, cutting through the panic and the blind fear, and she reached for her pack to wrap up her hand.

She climbed down the tree den with the injured hand up against her chest, and she dropped down, looking around the ranch, wishing desperately for Tenn to help her and come and comfort her when she was so raw inside and doubting everything she was doing.

But no one came, and she was alone.

White had many past times - sleeping next to the spire, sleeping next to the river, and staring mindlessly at the strange 'ranch,' some had called it. Today, she was busy doing the latter, staring at the tunnel runners quizzically. Derby had once said she was in their herd.

They did not look at her as if she were part of their herd.

She decided she didn't mind however; they were too fast for her anyway. The white hybrid lifted herself to all fours with a lick to her jowls when the faint scent of blood caught her nose. She looked around, ears pricked in alarm.

It seemed, however, that as soon as she had smelled it, it was gone again. Was she crazy? The dog-crow hybrid paced around on the spot, brow furrowed as she sniffed rather frantically at the ground, but to no avail. She didn't let herself give up - she was all the way sure she smelled something. and it was a similar smell to when rats would bleed.

With her nose pressed hard against the ground, White continued to frantically try to locate the scent again.

@Caravaggio

There was a shriek, and suddenly Caravaggio was up investigating the surrounding area. Polaris was a vast room, and it was easy to underestimate how close something might be. He'd learned this a while ago after having heard the telltale grind if stone against the ground, startling at the noise and afraid that he was going to be ganged up on by golems. But when he looked, there were none. His ears twitched and his eyes examined the expanse of rock beside the river and he was alone. So, it just went to show that even if one heard something sketchy, it wasn't always worth worrying about. Maybe that made him careless.

His carelessness wouldn't prevent him from seeking the origin of this noise, however. The pained scream was haunting, causing his blood to curl and the hair on his spine to stand up straight. And the first thing he did was worry - thinking to find White, fearful of what it may have been. So he charged off towards where he had seen her last and sure enough, there she was, sniffing around the air for something. "White!" His wide eyes clung to her, panicked voice blustery with relief to see that she seemed to be in good health. "Did you hear that? Is someone in trouble? What if its the golems?" The cow, admittedly something of a coward, trotted up to her and walked a half protective half frightened arc around her before stopping behind the winged dog and peering fretfully over her.

@Cayenne

Cayenne sighed as she kept her hand close to her and walked around somewhat. It was peaceful and incredibly quiet, with today being a day the cave runners decided to be settled. Even the turkeys were quiet, only making sounds when she drew near and offered them seeds to peck at from her good hand. She liked them for their simplicity and their easy affection, but today it did nothing to dispatch the gloom around her heart.

She turned to face her garden, pulling herself up by the seams to tend to her blooming plants and herbs, and then she saw a flash of white and some sounds around the bend. She frowned, holding her wounded hand close, and called out, "Is someone there?"