The Animus. A mysterious energy source that connects to people, creatures, and even objects according to rules none truly understand – or so says the baked sage known as Old Biscuit.

What is the true nature of this force?

It is the truth behind my angel of evolution, but knowing its name has made it no less enigmatic.

What does it truly mean to be an animote? How can a simple bun be expected to learn and wield magic? Old Biscuit said that we might help each other, and there is much he could teach me, but he is still something of a mystery himself, and I fear what the price of his aid will be.

"Hoo boy, it's a good night for a hunt!" Old Biscuit stomped his gingerbread feet.

I'd spent four hours lying on the blanket, resting in something similar to sleep. It had been a shrinking of perception, a slowing of thought, and while I'd never truly lost consciousness, I had lost track of time.

Every minute I spent motionless also seemed to add to a pressure within me, and now that I was back up I felt fast, and strong, and lithe.

Old Biscuit looked to have been up for some time, surrounded by scattered papers.

As I lifted myself off the blanket, he was opening a chest and pulling out a vest made of wine corks strung together. It looked like armor, of a sorts. He shrugged the vest on and fastened a strap around his waist.

Next he pulled out a canvas messenger bag. He walked over to me and hung the strap over my body.

"Perfect. Having you along's gonna make this a lot easier."

I looked down at the bag, my jelly twisting uneasily inside me. Did OB mean for me to join him on this 'hunt'? An endeavour so dangerous as to require armor?

I was grateful for the refuge he'd given me, and the information he'd provided – scant as it was – but I wasn't prepared to risk life and sticky limb to repay the favour.

I'm not oblivious to the boons you've granted me, friend, but what is this hunt you want to drag me on?

I stomped my foot five times, then cocked my body quizzically.

"Hm?" Old Biscuit pulled a backpack from the chest and shrugged it on, but gave no response to my question.

I tapped the ground three times.

Old Biscuit looked at me. "What, you don't want to go?"

I tapped thrice again.

"Well gee, I was gonna teach you how to wake'n your Mystic Art," Old Biscuit said. "I don't have time to sit around all night, not when there's salvage to hunt, but I was gonna teach you while we worked."

I shuffled my feet. Knowing that the 'hunt' was for merely a search for salvage weakened my resolve to stay behind considerably, and the promise of OB's tutelege was a powerful draw. I'd already felt what he could accomplish with his Gingerlight. Having that kind of edge could keep me alive.

I still believed the tunnel was dangerous, as was the world, but it was a danger I'd braved before, and perhaps the rewards would be worth it.

I hesitated only for a few more seconds before nodding my body.

"Well, good!" Old Biscuit said, turning and reaching up to lift a wooden staff from the wall, hooked at one end, with a net on the other. He gave my side a friendly slap as he moved past towards the exit pipe. "Having you'n along's gonna make a real difference. Haulin', keeping an eye out. Yes sir, it's gonna be a bumper night."

I followed after him. The thought that there was something to watch out for left me a little uneasy, but I was certain I'd at least be able to move faster than Old Biscuit, should something threaten us.

Old Biscuit unlatched the door and rolled the gear aside. He stepped out cautiously, twitching his head from side to side, before moving out into the tunnel.

I followed, the gingerbread man's caution filling me with an apprehension that wasn't present the previous day, when I'd walked the tunnel without fear. I pulled the gear closed behind me.

"Right," Old Biscuit began, using the pole-hook as a walking staff as he led us forward on the walkway, moving downstream. "Mystery, mystery."

I hastened my pace, moving up to walk alongside him. Part of my role on this expedition was as lookout, so I kept a constant survey of our surroundings, but my full attention was on Old Biscuit's words.

"Well, to open your Mystic Art, you gotta know yourself," Old Biscuit went on. "You ever reflected, partner?"

I paused to tap three times on the tunnel wall. No.

I'd hardly had the time for self reflection. My life had been a frantic battle for survival since the first moment of my existence.

"Well, that old animus is in you, but it's not you, if you get me. It's with you, always, an' it wants to help. Kind of like... hmm.“

Like a guardian angel, I thought.

"Like a... big ghost mom. " Old Biscuit came to a stop, peering into the smooth water. "But it doesn't give you anything for free, only what yer due."

I stepped up to the water's edge, looking down at the dark surface. My reflection hung there. Just a bun. Two sticks. Some powdered sugar. All I was, and all I may ever be, not even staring back at me, as staring required eyes, which I did not possess.

As I watched my reflection, I felt my gaze drift deeper, beyond the merely physical. As my mind wandered down this unfamiliar path – a path of self reflection – I felt the brush of the angel on my mind.

> DOUGHTANION

>

> Traits

> Sticky Legs

> Run, jump, and kick.

> Improved balance.

>

> Skills

> [2/3] Bunrunning

> Mighty leaps and aerial acrobatics.

> Combine movement with attacks and dodges.

> Reduced weight while running.

>

> [2/5] Bready Language

> Inspire, intimidate, and communicate with nuance.

> Using motion, gesture, and stance to speak without words.

My reflection was broken a moment later when Old Biscuit dipped his hook into the water, fishing for something beneath the surface. The image collapsed into spreading ripples, taking that strange self knowledge with it.

When Old Biscuit withdrew the hook, it was trailing a long piece of twine.

"Hooo! Jackpot!" he crowed, taking hold of the string with his prosthetic hand and gathering up. He wound the twine into a loose bundle, which he pushed into my bag.

Old Biscuit was wrong, I thought to myself. The angel had given me something for free. My legs. That first life-saving gift had come to me with no price attached – a crisis evolution. I hadn't seen its like since, and given my guess about OB's easy escape from his bakery, perhaps he never had.

We continued down the tunnel, but I grew frustrated when OB made no attempt to continue his explanation.

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I tapped my foot once against the bricks, and when he turned to look at me I hopped in place.

You promised to teach me, old man. I expect you to deliver.

"You're an impatient one, aren't ya. You should try having kids. That will teach you patience."

I hopped again.

"Oh alright," Old Biscuit said, turning his attention back to the tunnel in front of us. "I told ya that Animus gives yer what you earn. To get it to cough up your Mystic Art, you gotta show it self knowledge. You gotta figure out the truth of who an' what you are."

Who and what I was? That was easy. I was a bun. But somehow that didn't seem to be as deep and meaningful as Old Biscuit was implying. I was a sticky bun? A jelly-filled sticky bun?

"Stop," Old Biscuit said, holding up his hand. "Listen."

In the tranquility of the tunnel I could hear a distant noise. A constant roaring, that never seemed to pause for breath.

"The nexus," Old Biscuit said. "Come on."

He set off again at a run, and I followed, keeping pace easily. At one point we passed one of the scorched silhouettes, and I tried to get OB's attention to ask about it, but he was completely focused on whatever we were running towards.

The roaring sound grew louder as we ran forward, more a natural sound than biological, I realized. Soon the curving tunnel straightened out, the flow of the water in the channel became more turbulent, and I could see glimpses of something in the distance – a wide chamber.

Old Biscuit slowed as we approached the source of the sound. The end of the tunnel opened up into a wide hexagonal chamber, easily six feet in diameter, and perhaps four feet heigh.

The room was a nexus, the convergence point of six identical aqueduct tunnels. They met at an angle, and the six outflowing torrents combined to form a massive whirlpool.

Old Biscuit stepped up to the edge of the platform to look down into the spiral, and I followed suit.

Below us the water swirled and clashed, swirling vortexes throwing up countercurrents that clashed with the main flow in frothing waves, the maelstrom intermittently throwing up splashes of spray that went higher than our heads.

The roaring sound was coming from the center of the whirlpool, where the swirling water crashed down a hole of indeterminate depth.

It was an awesome sight, deadly and elemental. I'd never seen anything like it. Standing there, looking down at this wonder of the world, I felt the sugar prickling on my skin at the awe, and majesty, and fury of it.

Old Biscuit raised his arm, pointing out several locations around the edge of the whirlpool. Here and there objects were caught in the countercurrents, the lost detritus of the entire water system congregating in one place.

He pointed at me, then at his eyes, and gestured around to the aqueduct tunnels. The meaning was clear. I was to keep watch.

It would be helpful if I knew what to watch for, but deliberately or not, OB had declined to expand on the threats that lurked in the tunnels. I would just have to rely on my judgement and instincts.

I left Old Biscuit's side and began patrolling the perimeter of the chamber, checking down each tunnel. I was briefly stalled by the rushing waters that blocked my path, but after a couple of experimental hops I found I was able to easily soar over the broad chasms with only a short run up.

I passed some time by testing the new light body effect from my bunrunning. If I stuck my foot into the seam between to bricks that made up the wall, I could feel my balance-force trying to right me, in effect trying to push me up the wall, but it was too weak to counter gravity.

When I was running, it was a different story. With even a short run up, I was able to run several inches up the wall.

The limiting factor seemed to be my own limited skill at placing my feet in the right spots. Missing the seam and trying to take a step against flat brick would cause an immediate loss of momentum, the balance force from my sticky legs only kicking in when I had a plausible foothold.

"Partner!" Old Biscuit shouted. He was waving at me, something heavy dangling in his outstretched net.

I was all the way over at the opposite of the chamber, and rather than work my way all the way around, I turned and ran at the wall.

My foot caught the first seam easily, and the next. My third step scraped against flat brick, but I had enough momentum to deal with one misstep. I hit the next seam, and the next, and the next, and soon I was a foot off the ground.

Judging that I was high enough, I kicked off the wall, launching myself into the air over the swirling water.

I soared over the whirlpool, feeling my jelly flip inside me as I passed over the bottomless sinkhole. I occasionally paddled my legs as I flew, maintaining the 'run' that was keeping me light enough to do this.

As I passed the edge of the far platform I let my legs still, twisting in the air so I faced the way I'd come. I felt my weight gradually reassert itself just as I began to fall, and positioned my legs for a landing.

I hit the ground in a crouch, directly in front of Old Biscuit.

Old Biscuit was staring at me, his raisin eyes wide. A moment later he shook his head.

"Huh. Kind of a show-off, ain't'cha."

I can't help that you're so easily impressed, old timer.

I leaned back in a haughty stance and half turned away from him, signaling my indifference.

"Well anyhow," Old Biscuit said, bendinding down to reach his staff on the ground. He spent a few seconds digging in the net, then pulled out a shining gold coin, as large as his head. "Got something fer you to haul."

He dropped the coin into my bag and it nearly overbalanced me. It had to weigh half as much as my entire body. I was starting to understand why he really wanted me along.

"I used to bring a cart," Old Biscuit said, stepping back up to the edge of the maelstrom. "'Til The Beast crush'n it. It's just too much bulk to haul around an' be safe."

The Beast???

I slammed my foot against the ground, then twisted my body in an exaggerated looking around motion, and finally punctuated the movement with another tap of my foot against the floor. What do you mean, The Beast?

"Hm?" Old Biscuit hummed, kneeling by the platform edge to dip his hook into the swirling water. "Oh, don't you worry about that. It mostly comes out dawn and dusk. Just you keep an eye out."

I stamped my foot on the ground, but Old Biscuit was halfway through dragging a lacey bonnet from the water. I turned and began walking back around the chamber, mechanically checking each tunnel.

I could only assume Old Biscuit was protecting me from information he thought would unnerve me. It was also clear what little information he had about Mystic Arts, he could have delivered in the bunker. From my point of view, there was no real reason for me to be out here. I just couldn't work out if he was coldly manipulative, using the knowledge to secure my help, or genuinely eccentric.

"Oh, she'll love it." Old Biscuit was shaking the water off a plush mouse toy, about the size of his head. He wrung it out and started stuffing it into his backpack.

I was beginning to grow tired of constantly checking on the six identical tunnels, but when I paused to check the tunnel opposite Old Biscuit, it was only because I was so familiar with what they were supposed to look like, that I was able to recognize something off with this one.

Far down the tunnel, just before it bent out of sight, there was a bulge in the water. As I watched, I realized it was moving towards us, rushing down the tunnel like the swell of a wave.

I wasn't sure if this was what Old Biscuit was worried about, but my instincts told me it was unusual enough to be worth warning him about.

With the bag hanging from my body I was too heavy to make the wall jump across the chamber, so I made my way around the outside.

I bumped my body against Old Biscuit as I arrived, taking his attention from his pack, then raising my leg to point down the tunnel opposite.

His head turned to follow my foot, and when he did his eyes went wide, the twin raisins swelling so large I thought they were going to burst.

"Well, hell." Old Biscuit let his pack fall and lowered his stance, a faint glow flickering to life from the ginger crystal in his chest as he spread his feet and raised his hands. "Reckon I'll need your help with This'n, partner."

I stamped my foot once on the ground. What are we dealing with, old man!?

"This'ns The Beast," he said. "I call it all kinds'a names, most aren't polite..."

In the distance the wave finally broke, the submerged creature revealing itself to be a monstrous fish, at least a foot long, covered in shimmering brown scales, hurtling down at us. It had a round face, and a pair of huge plump lips pulled back to reveal the rasp of its gums. Its round eyes bulged out from the sides of its head, twin hemispheres of malice, which seemed to burn with a cold, green light.

"But mostly," Old Biscuit finished, "I calls it Guppy."