Extra: '100B'
My name is Grivatolimus Paradeux de Therigarde, Jr. And someone has drawn on my face.
This would not be an issue if I had appendages with which to remove it, and then smite the blasphemous fool who imprinted upon me his vulgar script of senseless scribbles. Unfortunately... I am a worm. A 'rockworm,' to be precise—at least, in the tongue of the villainous graffiti artist who defaced me.
What great machinations of the divine led to my greatness being dubbed such a barbaric utterance? Well, my curious subject, this is because—like the many magnificent ancestors for whom I carry their legacy—my form is crafted by the very gods themselves to be strong like stone. I was hewn from the minerals of creation, gifted my supremacy, then set to reign over the golden lands of paradise. Of course, the buffoon was blinded by my immaculate presentation, and soiled the air with his voice in awe, naming my kind to the best of his exceedingly limited abilities.
I do not fault him for his inadequate articulation, for I am aware that I am just so extraordinary.
...Also because the villain in question has the imagination and naming sensibility of the vile creature in which I was named after. Regardless!
I am cunning. Tough. Handsome.
Resilient in even the most perilous conditions, I prevail. Unmoved by the petty whims of nature itself, I thrive. Even when the heavens sought to smite me, by sheer wit and unmatched greatness, I evaded the crashing tomb of strange metals and roaring fire, unmarked and fearless in the face of the divine jealousy before me.
I suppose one such as yourself would be exceptionally curious about my tale, and woe would I be were I not the beneficent ruler you have sought!
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It all began one eventful day. The orange sky graced my hardened flesh with the brightest that the sun had to offer, the forest I called my kingdom serenading me with sounds of rustling trees and swaying grass that bowed to my excellence. I had been quite pleased to bathe in the warm rays offered freely, enjoying the whispering chants of nature’s reverence towards me. It was all for naught, for the gods grew envious of my greatness, and thought it fit to send upon me their ire.
Screams from the atmosphere declared war on my senses as the smoking trail following the plummeting metal meteor led directly towards me. I stood stalwart, unperturbed by such petty foibles such as mortality that plagued lesser beings. I stared down my nemesis while it plundered the ground, launching dirt and detritus into the air as I merely yawned my boredom and disapproval of the ‘almighty being’s’ poor marksmanship. Even equipped with such a frivolous weapon that utilized ammunition many times larger than myself, they still failed miserably. It would be hilariously pitiful, were it not so distressingly disappointing. Lo, their jealousy had led to my kingdom being muddled and ravaged by their rage, and thus, I sought newer pastures more befitting my status.
My new location rested under the shade of a dense canopy, grateful to offer myself their utmost to ensure I was not burdened by a single unwanted glimpse of the open expanse above. I shook with satisfaction for their service, blinding myself in my pleasure to voluntarily sequester away. Some may spin this tale with lies claiming I had run in fear to tremble under cover, but know such is merely slander wrought from those unworthy.
Regardless, I had claimed a new kingdom, and my reign would begin as my previous one ended: with immaculate perfection.
…Until the pinkish alien stumbled needlessly into my vicinity, marred my superior surface with a stick, and then tottered off instead of rightfully begging for mercy. I am a magnanimous ruler—perhaps I might have only condemned the fool to a century or two of indentured servitude—yet still he fled, fearing my might and unable to bear the weight of his sin against me. I laughed the experience off, choosing not to pursue such an unintelligent creature.
After all, no imbecile would dare stain my proximity with their presence after such blasphemous acts a second time.
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It returned.
I had once again changed my locale, opting for a somewhat less obstructed view of the sky above. It allowed me a variety of warm and cool exposure, as well as a delectable display of various delicacies—only the finest of forest litter was acceptable, you see.
I spotted the scoundrel, trudging gracelessly through the brush. He formed a distasteful menagerie with two others, but they were perhaps acceptable subjects, should they find reason and vow their fealty to one such as myself.
Colossal, blue, and a hardened exterior spoke of a more sophisticated race suitable to serve me, and it came with a smaller purple one as well. Offspring or not, this spoke of a potentially prosperous development! Six pointed, segmented legs. A broad and sturdy abdomen. Tall, regal torsos, topped by noble heads and intelligent eyes. Imperiously sharp appendages extended forth, eager to tend to every need and whim, fending off the savages of the wild that threatened my domain.
Yes. These were worthy of my leadership.
Though the following brief absence may have sparked doubtful inclinations within my mind, the others fell victim to the horrors obtained in a world without me, sending them to my presence once again to seek my aid!
...and accompanied by the villain, it seemed.
He even had the gall to boast about his defiling acts, using his wrongdoing as a point of pride! I was hopeful— I mean, contemplating the possibility of forgiving the insects and allowing them to bask in my perfection, but the evil alien absconded with them, leaving me to my kingdom yet again.
Good riddance.
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Again. The villain returned...again.
Numerous days had passed, though I cared not to keep track of how many—what is time when the universe itself is your subordinate? But that is neither here nor there.
I had again chosen a new domain after the snow melted and the lush forest regained its lustre. Though I was not nomadic, I did appreciate variety, and I evaluated my territory rightly. Territory that was encroached by the one who I wished no more of. Even hearing the voice of the vile creature irritated me to no end, and he was accompanied by another this time—different from the respectable existences he deceived into leaving previously.
Though only for a short moment, I was able to flawlessly ascertain the image of the one I would come to know as a female of her species.
Furry, bipedal, and a visage not too dissimilar to those of another beast wandering the wilds. Her piercing yellow gaze attempted to bore into me, her savage hunger evident on her serrated maw. A disgusting creature unfit of my grace, yet one I had not the time to repel.
I was kidnapped, stuffed within a container of leaf and leather, then cast into the darkness.
Such accommodations were to be my eternity, surely, but even that was not enough for the gods who failed in their prior attempt to usurp my throne. I was deposited on a table, and presented to even more of the repulsive things.
I had thought my life over, a regicide committed by heathens acting on flawed whims of pathetic deities.
But I lived.
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My palace was—rightfully so—distinguished. Though not the vast swaths of marvellous forest I had been content to rule, I was vindicated to discover that the villain had seen the error of his ways, and sought to serve me properly.
I still did not quite forgive him for never removing the vandalism he inflicted upon me, but his offerings had stayed my wrath.
Wives and concubines aplenty were bestowed by the unsettling faithful, prompting me to generously forgive them for the affliction which affected their appearance. A proper king should not judge their subjects by their faces, but by their hearts, and these...wonderful...followers have proven their sincerity. Using the power at my disposal, I absolved them of their sin.
The new confines of my regal duties were shared with several servants, though most busied themselves with things beyond my direct needs. I cared not for what tasks they performed, for it was certainly all a means to my satisfaction anyway. A darker blond-coloured female of the bestial race tended to my whims, supplying food and tidying my domain. ‘Ferra,’ I recalled her name being.
Ferra was a devout servant to my kingdom, as limited as it now was. She would vet all potential suitors, then present to me only the most attractive, most alluring, and most valuable women. I thanked her for her tireless duties, as a kind king should.
I sired many—my princes and princesses whisked away to start their own kingdoms, doubtlessly transported to pristine lands, or given their own domiciles in which to be served. When my concubine had given me my successors, they would be removed, then replaced by another of equal calibre, eager to expand my legacy.
I was king, and all, my subjects.
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I had been kidnapped. Again.
This time, it was by the same beasts brought to mind when my precious servant Ferra and her race were introduced to me. This ‘moss-wolf’ saw fit to bear its teeth, constrict my form, then tear me from my harem! I shouted for my devout to bring reckoning upon the creature, yet they were understandably terrified of harming me in the process. Even the numerous insect subjects knew their wickedly sharp limbs would be of no use against such a terrib—
A ceremony? I was not kidnapped at all? But there was... And the...
O-of course not! How glad I am that such an intelligent student such as yourself noticed my deceptions! Yes!
I had been given a fearsome steed in which to be carried to their partnering ritual! The gentle and dutiful grasp ensured I would come to no harm while in transit, and I was given a peerless vantage over the event!
Even if I did not quite recognize the new subject in my lands, I was delighted to discover that they had taken the necessary steps to have me bless their union. It also allowed me to view the avian, her blue plumage and deep gaze complimenting her blackened beak. She was magnificent! Not as much as myself or my wives, but a delightfully pleasant change in appearance nonetheless. My subjects dressed her in a beautiful gown, placed her in the centre of the room for me to appreciate, then went about the ceremony, comforted by my presence.
After the celebrations, I was returned to my palace and tended to before my lovely servant Ferra requested time to be with her partners. Needless to say, I rewarded her with the night off.
My time after that was blissful. Days and nights were spent being as important as royalty is wont to be. I sired young, had my selections of flawless women, and my sanctuary was improved. All was well. I even learned of many new subjects migrating just to bask in my greatness—something I welcomed wholeheartedly.
At some point, I was informed by my adoring servant that a new palace had been erected for me and mine! Finally!
...N-not that I expected less.
The benefits of a purpose-built castle became immediately apparent: I had protecting walls to ensure my safety, countless women at my disposal, as grand a feast as one such as myself was deserving of, and even a courtyard where I could wander and observe my loyal followers behind the barricade set to keep away intruders.
I was king.
And then, I—Grivatolimus Paradeux de Therigarde, Jr. King of the lands—was kidnapped.
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The cage was cold. Others whimpered from their injuries, terrified of the furred ones which struck when cries grew too loud. The others cowered and licked their wounds.
But She stood strong, growling and giving no ground to the ones who sought her harm. She had been captured, and She had been hurt, but She would not break. She would not abandon her mate.
He had been lashed the most—his barking and biting having drawn blood from the furred ones—and so now He rested, peacefully protected by She, just like He had done for her.
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She knew not when it was decided, nor how long after their capture it was, but they had been moved to a new cage.
She was weak, She was starving, and so was He. He had been slowing lately, each step and growl softer than the one before. Last night, He had only eaten because She insisted on it, and even then it was barely enough to stave off the pain. She gave him her portion as well—secretly, of course, since He would never do it otherwise—but She could endure for him, as He had done for She.
Corralled. Trapped. The new cage was smaller. Colder. There was no longer room to pace and stretch, to hide and cower. She took the lashes meant for He. The pain gave it meaning. The pain would not reach him. He was weak. He was hurt. He was fading.
So too, was She.
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Water. A trickle at first, but enough to rouse her from her sleep, exhaustion and suffering dulled by the mask of dreams. It spread against the cold floor of their prison before seeping through the cracks and into the ground below their mobile containment. She nudged her mate, hoping that He would drink. That He would move. He had not for days now, but He still breathed, if weakly.
Slowly, He lapped at the moisture, the splashes being all that were making it to his tongue. He would not end his thirst before the water was gone, but She could. Yet She did not, because He was her mate. He was all She wanted. Without He, She did not know what awaited her, but She knew it would not be freedom. It would not be He.
So She covered her face in the water, allowing it to run down her muzzle and coat her skin. She was wet, and could bring it to He. Thankfully, He accepted, showering her with love and gratitude while sating his need as much as He could. She repeated it a few times, eventually being assured that He had enough by a grateful gaze. He would see another day.
So too, would She.
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Cold. It was always cold. The furred ones marched outside their cage, dragging them along as they conversed and ignored their product. She got up from her mate’s side to see where they were, but nothing looked like their territory. Nothing looked like home. It was not where She wanted to be, but She was with He, so She endured.
They had been raised by neighbouring packs and met while hunting the same small leaf-like creature. Though He had caught it, He shared his spoils with her—a kind gesture, but not uncommon when keeping the peace between packs. She accepted, then they parted ways, expecting to see each other on occasion.
As it turned out, they did, but it was not a friendly competition for food, nor a dispute over hunting grounds. No, it was when She was terrified, alone, and staring down a beast many times larger than herself.
Four arms, four legs, a vertical pillar of vicious teeth, and a stalk of an eye looming over her. She was left to protect the den while the others hunted for food. She was meant to protect the pups.
How could She protect them from that?
She couldn’t. She was swept aside, crashed into a tree that marked the outside of her home, then all but crumpled into a heap at the roots. Her breathing was laboured and She had trouble thinking, yet She trembled to her feet and growled at the beast. She lunged, her four hind-legs collapsing under the strain, broken bone and lacerated flesh leaking her green blood into the grass. She did not feel the pain. She only felt regret as the beast was lured to the pups by their whimpers and mewling, the distressed cries for their parents only calling for their end.
She had watched, determined to witness the results of her failure.
Only when the beast was finished, and She had no more sorrow to give, did She let the black take her.
She looked down at her mate, his breath weak once more. He had dragged her away from the beast those many moons ago, and provided for her while She healed. Though She remained broken, She was his. He knew. He knew He would never have a pup of his own with her, but He had showered her with affection anyway. Now, He needed She to do the same, to love and provide while He was too weak. To care for and tend while He was broken.
Though She felt the distant jaws of the black coming for her with every day that passed—with every lash and meagre meal—He needed her to endure.
And so, She did.
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Tired. Cold. Weak.
Pain. So, so much pain.
The lashes increased when they had not the strength to eat and their travels continued despite dwindling resources, but She took all those meant for He, as He would for She. She stood above him on fatigued legs and undernourished frame, each crack of the whip and sticks rupturing her skin. He awoke, whimpering for her safety and saddened to see her suffer, but She just nudged his food closer and licked his snout, hoping He would eat while ignoring her wounds. He did, taking solace that his mate was at least fed as well.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
She was not.
The amount that was tossed into the cage lessened with each day. At first, She could give some of her own to He, but now, He was getting everything. He needed it, or the black would come for him, and She would be alone.
There were other cages. Other wolves. Some cages contained strange creatures that protected smaller ones using their bodies, like She did for He. She had been scared of them initially, but one moon their cage had been laid close to her own while the furred ones slept, and the smaller of the creatures could reach out to touch them. One did.
She had tried to growl—to defend her weakened mate—but her throat was dry, and her body unable. She sat firm to defend him, and yet the bladed limb brought not harm, but food. It was impaled on the sharp point and offered to She, gifted by one that seemed to be naught but a pup itself. A strange pup, but still a pup. She refused at first, both weary and doubtful, but the pup’s insistence was met with her hunger.
If She did not eat, then the black would take her. Without her, the black would take He.
She ate the food, pitiful and ashamed to have fallen so low, but the pup clicked softly, and offered some more. It had stored some to give after watching them suffer so, and wanted to provide where their captors did not. She accepted, feeding most to He until his hunger was sated, her own held at bay for another day. The pup turned back to its own after that, its wish fulfilled. She knew not what to give in return, but She decided the strange ones may be friends. The pup ensured He would live.
And so too, would She.
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There were less. The other wolves had all perished, yet She and He survived. The pup and other strange ones used their sharp limbs to fashion a portable divot to carry water the other moon, and had offered it to He when the furred ones failed to give them any. She knew why—their captors expected them to succumb, and giving them anything would be a waste. Yet the strange ones rationed their supplies and provided, saving He from the black once more.
Then a furred one noticed.
The lashings were violent for both cages, but whereas the pup was rightfully protected, She needed to protect He. Her mate whined and whimpered, but She endured for him.
She endured as others joined in the beating.
She endured as the pain faded and the black crept up around her vision, her blood dripping onto her mate.
She endured because the strange ones knew kindness, and would help He when She could not.
She endured until the black came.
And then—even in dark—She endured.
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Pain. Bright. Loud. Pain.
She opened her eyes, hearing voices she knew not. New furred ones, conversing with those who captured her. She checked on her mate, but He was well, thankfully—as well as He could be under the circumstances. She was confused why the black had released her, but She was with He, and that was enough. It needed to be enough. He had risked his life to save her when She was broken. She would break again to keep him safe.
Walls. The cages were carried into a territory of furred ones. Was this it? Would the next black be the last? Could She carry He to safety? Would the strange ones care for He if She could not?
She had too many questions, yet was too weak to find answers.
There was a new voice—deep and different than the furred ones. She struggled to focus on it, but managed, finding another distinct creature. A furless one. It gazed at them with...
Sadness.
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Warm.
Confined, but warm. Pain, but less. Weak, but stronger.
The furless one provided for them, but She did not trust so easily. She was still caged. He was still weak.
A strange one visited with the furless one this time, sticking by his side and fearful of She. The furless one gave food to the strange pup. The pup offered it to She. The pup was different, but the same. She trusted the pup.
And when the pup embraced the furless one in her joy at She taking the food, She watched as the furless one embraced her back, proudly assuring her of a job well done. The furless one looked at He with worry, then offered another morsel. It was apparent what the furless one wanted She to do, and She wasted no time in doing so. He needed more food. The furless one knew.
The pup could be trusted, and when the furless one gave She not lashes, but a soft touch and sorrow-stricken gaze, She knew the furless one could be trusted too.
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A furred one spoke to them again. Gold.
She listened, though She did not understand. He listened, though He was uninterested. It didn’t matter. He was stronger. He could walk.
She was happy to listen.
She saw it in this furred one's eyes: concern, care, and protection. One moon, She decided to sit closer. She had watched the furless one be revered by others, and the pup be treated the same. The furless one led them, and had saved them from the lashes. From the cold. From the pain. From the black.
The furless one saved He.
If this was the furless one’s pack, then why were they there, fed and mended? Did the furless one think of them as kin? Possibly—the pup seemed to be thought of as his pup. Were all his pack?
She rested by the wall of her new cage closest to the furred one, warm and listening to the soothing voice. He joined her. Neither much minded when the gold one softly touched them, the longing in her words carrying through the air. The gold one was alone, in a way.
She came to a decision: if they would want them in their pack, and had saved He, then She would help.
She would try to protect them.
No, She would protect them.
None should be alone.
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A pup.
Not of the strange ones, or the furred ones, or even the strange one that the furless one claimed, but a wolf pup. It cried and whined, terrified and alone, yet desperate for the kindness it had been given. The gold one gave it to She, sadness lingering with the scent of injury. The gold one had saved it—and by the tainted smell that brought back memories of She’s failure, the gold one protected it from that.
The pup had no pack now. No mother nor father. No den to return to. No siblings wondering where it was. No den to hide from beasts.
The pup cried as it was laid down. It cried for the gold one not to leave it. It cried not to be alone.
She picked the pup up and brought it to He. Her mate looked at her—confused, then overwhelmed. They could smell the traces of the furless one on the pup. The furless one had given them it to care for.
She and He had a pup now. She would teach it that the furless one and those who carry his scent was safe. She would teach it that the strange ones were friends.
As for those who were neither?
Danger.
She would teach it to protect the others from danger, just as was done for She by He, and then by her new pack.
They would protect them, because they were protected.
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Hunt. Track. Find. Chase. Kill.
She tore through the brush, He hot on her trail as they pursued their target. Violence had happened, and the scent of blood saturated everything. She and He protected their pup in their confinement, but many of the pack perished.
But many more who were not did as well.
The gold one had returned, released them again, and tucked their pup away safely before requesting She and He to follow. They did, for they trusted Gold. Gold would tell them what to do, and Gold would see them safe. If they were not safe? Gold would end the danger.
So they set out to end whatever endangered Gold.
The furless one was quiet, yet every instinct cried that he demanded a hunt. There were those who were danger. Those who would be hunted.
She and He joined without question.
A furred one ran from them. Ran from their pack. Ran from their leader. Ran from the hunt.
Gold and the others who obeyed grew tired, but She did not. He did not. The furless one did not. They were hunting. They would hunt. They would kill.
They would end the danger.
And so, they did.
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The pack was large now. Many wolves had since joined, and many strange ones walked within the walls of the place they called their home. The confines She had stayed in at first still remained, but it held wolves who were scared until She and He could reassure them.
It was safe. There was pack here—pups and friends in all shapes and colours. Follow the scent of the furless one and those that obey, and you will find pack. You will be happy.
You will remove what tries to make you unhappy.
New scents of the unknown were escorted by those who obeyed. Those were to be watched. Observed. Most became coated in the furless one’s scent soon enough, and then they were pack. The pack made the pack happy.
She was happy because She had He, She had pack, and She had pup.
He was happy because She was happy, He had pup, and because he had a rock that smelled of the furless one.
A furred pup was petting He. He liked the furred pup. The furred pup liked the rock. He gave her the rock, because the pack should be happy. The furred pup was happy with the rock.
She nuzzled her mate and pup as the furred pup excitedly carried away the rock, then found a nearby tree to nap under. The furred pup was alone. She did not like that.
There was no reason to be alone. She would not let there be.
There was no cold. No pain. No weakness. No crying.
There were no lashes. No hunger. No cage. No sadness. No that.
They had been given all by the pack, and though new, this was a pup, and the pup should be happy.
She had He, He had She, they had pup, and as the furred pup slept, the furred pup had them.
None were alone in the pack, and that made them happy.
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Lea’el was small. She would be big some sun, but for now, she was okay with being small. Her den had moved, and there were lots of ships and shuttles and rooms and people, but now she had a new den. If she were big, she would’ve needed to know what was going on, but because she was small, she could leave it to the big, and as long as the big were there to deal with it, she would be okay.
Of course, she was also bored.
Though far from clear, she could see now, so she learned just how much there was to explore. She had explored most of her old den, but she was never allowed to explore outside before. She had asked and begged, but her den-parents said ‘no,’ and she was small and they were big, so ‘no’ was the answer she got.
She didn’t ask this time, because she wanted them to say ‘yes,’ and ‘yes’ was hard to say when they were saying ‘no.’
Instead, she waited for them to be moving things into their new den, and followed the first person who seemed to be going somewhere interesting. At this point, that meant anywhere but a place she had already been. And since she had only been to the front of her new den, everywhere was interesting!
There were silver dens and people and big insects and less-big insects and...there were no smalls. Sure, the less-big insects were kinda small, but not her small. They were not Lea’el small. Try as she might, she couldn’t see any, but that didn’t mean much. Honestly, she could only make out details as far as she could reach—the rest was just blurry, really. Not that she let it stop her.
If the world was too far away to see, then she would just need to get closer.
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Wow.
Lea’el stared up at the big wall. She had noticed a big silver blur, and had come to see what it was. She knew it was big, but not big-big, and not this big-big.
It was big. It might be less big if she was not small, but she was small, so this was a very big wall.
...Wow.
She looked around after a few more moments, getting her fill of just how big the wall was. It was interesting at first, but in the end, it was a wall, and thus boring. She was bored now.
There were more big silver blurs everywhere, most of the ones she inspected on her way to the wall proving to be dens and dens-but-not-dens. There were people inside them—some working and some sleeping and some eating. Someone was even nice enough to give Lae’el a snack, so she held onto the snack, thanked them, and then ate it while staring at the wall.
She didn’t have a snack anymore, and the wall was now explored, and thus she was bored.
Thankfully, there were big insects and small-big insects wandering around, and her den-parents told her that they were safe, but to be careful because they were big. As a small, she understood that the big insects were big and might not see her because she was small. Also as a small, she didn’t really think about it long enough to care, so she followed the big colourful blur to see where it was going next.
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There were a lot of bigs here. And trees and dens, but mostly bigs. Why were there so many bigs? As far as she could tell, they were here because there was a big silver insect that wasn’t an insect but was still big. The people would go up to the big not-insect, be quiet for a moment, then leave with a soft smile on their face. Some said hello to Lae’el, and some asked if she was okay, but she was okay, so they left. That was fine, there were still a lot of bigs, so she was okay.
She was curious about the big not-insect though, and why people were being quiet in front of it. Was it only for bigs? Could smalls try? She didn’t see why not, and no one stopped her when she did.
She quickly decided that it must only work for bigs, because she was bored. Curious about why there was a big not-insect, why it was silver, and why the bigs were quiet around it, but bored. She stared at it, walked around it, and when it seemed safe, tried to bring it close enough to check out, but it was big. And heavy. Too heavy to move, actually, despite her attempts. Failing that, she got close enough to touch, and could finally see that it was a very detailed...thing. Words were written on a plate at the bottom, but she hadn’t learned how to read yet, so all she could say was that there were words on it.
And that it was big.
“Hello, small one,” a black-furred big greeted. Lae’el looked up at the big, but the big was too big to see much of. Bigger than her blood-mother and den-mother. “Do you wish for help in returning to your den?”
Lae’el thought about it. She couldn’t talk right quite yet, but she knew what the big female was asking at least. Did she want to go back? No, not really. She had a snack already and there was still more to explore... Hm. No, she decided, shaking her head up at the big black-furred female.
“If you are in need of assistance, simply request it. Someone will be along shortly after,” she informed, patting Lae’el’s head before leaving to rejoin a blond-furred big. The two laughed before returning to their sun, leaving the small to wonder what the strange scent was.
Actually, now that she paid attention, it was on everyone. Some smelled a lot like it—like the black-furred big—and others not so much. It might have been worrying, and she remembered it from something, but her den-parents had told her that here would be safe, and she was pretty sure they meant within the big-big silver walls.
She looked at the big silver not-insect and the people wandering around.
...They did mean all this was safe, right?
A small-big insect approached her, lowering down to be less big before tilting its head at her and clicking softly. Lae’el stared, only having been this close to the big not-insect, and not quite sure what to do about this sudden closeness. Her tail patted the small-big, testing if anything would happen. When nothing did, she got even closer, and could see the hard shell and pretty scales of the purple small-big insect.
It was warm. She liked warm, and she liked how pretty everything was, so she decided she liked the purple small-big insect. Not needing much more motivation, she hugged it as best she could, and was happy to discover it smelled like males and females and other interesting things—including the smell she couldn’t quite place—but it also smelled like food and nice. The purring caught her off-guard, but she was laughing because it was fun. This small-big was fun.
Unfortunately, the purple small-big had to go, but did manage another hug before leaving, so Lae’el wasn’t too sad. There was more to explore, after all!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lae’el was lost.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, because she could just wander the den and find a den-parent easily. If she wanted to find a specific den-parent, she could just follow their scent.
There were too many scents here, and she wasn’t in the new den. She sat on the ground, unsure if following any particular blur would get her further or closer to bigs she knew. If she got closer, great! If not, then she would be more lost, and that was a problem that needed a big to fix.
The worst part was that there weren’t many blurs here that looked like bigs. There were silver blurs she figured were dens, and a big blur that might have been a den with lots of smells, but there weren’t any people. The black-furred female said she could ask for help, but that was rather hard to do when there were no people to ask, and she couldn’t really ask in the first place. At least she could kinda nod or shake her head until someone figured out what she needed, but again, there were no people-shaped blurs and she was lost.
Maybe exploring was a bad idea.
She might have been small, but she was brave. She decided to be brave, anyway. There were two yellow blurs that looked to be smalls but didn’t smell like smalls, and a small-small that didn’t smell like a small-small.
She looked around for a better option, seeing only silver blurs and the three yellow ones. The choice made itself.
The smalls turned out not to be smalls. In fact, they looked a lot like she did, but not quite. They had more legs than she did, for one, and used all six of them to walk—though the small-small was using four, with two sticking off as it sat. All three seemed friendly, but one had a rock. It was a neat rock, since it had scratches on it, and it was interesting. She liked the not-smalls, and she liked the rock. The not-smalls also seemed to like being pet, so she petted them and the not-small-small, and then the not-small with the rock gave her the rock.
Lae’el giggled, petting the nice not-small again before merrily picking a direction and playing with her new rock, completely forgetting she had been lost. She didn’t get far before all her exploring caught up to her, but there was a nice tree here that looked comfortable, and she would only need a quick nap and she could keep exploring.
Yes. A nap would be nice. She liked naps. She would nap with her rock.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Apologies, Master H—“
“—Joseph. And don’t worry about it.” The strange male chuckled, rumbling Lae’el awake. She kept her eyes closed, finding it strange that nothing smelled like where she decided to lay down, but she was warm and it smelled...safe. It smelled safe. “I wasn’t going to leave your kit out there, and I figured you would be worried if she was gone for too long.”
Her den-father laughed shyly. “Yes, we were occupied with...well, there was much to unpack.”
“Like I said, it’s fine. Your kit has been all I’ve heard about since you got here, so the pack has been keeping an eye on her.”
“We are grateful, Joseph,” Lae’el’s blood-mother assured softly. The small felt familiar fur caress her cheek before she was lifted away from the warm and safe and she didn’t want to be away from the warm and safe. She remembered smelling it now, and everyone who had been nice smelled like the strange male and safe.
Furless paws gripped her own, a claw brushing over the tail that claimed it. “I found her with the wolves, oddly enough.”
“Oh! Was everything…“
The small was wrapped into her blood-mother’s arms, tiredness taking back over since her warm and safe was replaced with the normal warm and safe.
“They were sleeping in a pile. I think they like her.”
“I...I see.” Her den-father sighed. “Still, thank you for making sure she was well.”
“Not a problem. We’re all family here; your kit will be looked after like my own.”
The scent of joy and gratitude filled her tiny nose. “We heard as much, but...”
“I understand,” the strange male cooed knowingly. His furless claws scratched between Lae’el’s ears, the kit nuzzling into it as the captured paw freed itself. “It takes time. Anyway, I have my own kits to get back to, or Harrow’s going to make Tel over-spice my meal again. She can keep the rockworm for now, but Ferra will probably want it back soon. I pray the moon treats you well. Take care.”
The sound of a door closing was followed by bemused and defeated sighs. “How did she end up all the way out there?”
Her den-father chuckled. “I’m not sure, but...I think moving here was the right choice.”
Lae’el dozed off with her rock, her last thought being that she liked the strange warm-and-safe, and the not-smalls, and the purple small-big insect. There was a lot to explore and find and people were nice and there apparently were more smalls and she wanted to meet them too. She liked her new pack.
Her blood-mother rocked the small gently, a smile tinting her voice. “I think so too.”