no time to say hello, goodbye~ (sprite's run)

[glamourie]

Dusk; purple hues bleeding through the sky with tinges of red illuminating the horizon. It was chilly, despite coming into afternoon, and the setting of Rukbat was blotted out by the swirling clouds. It was dark enough to qualify as early evening and that fact was emphasized strongly by the movement in the wherhandler apartments; people were no doubt beginning to rise, or perhaps their whers were waking for their first meal of the evening. The humidity hanging in the air whispered promises of an evening shower to break up the early summer weather and further drop the temperature – by the middle of the night, it would actually qualify as cold.

The darkness of the barracks was lit however briefly by the yellowy-green glow of a salamandyr who’s hide, even at the most normal of times, was blinding. Sprite perched on the very top of one of the bunks, her entire body curled sinuously around the post. She wrapped her wings around her body, her frill was flared and for once, the normally easy-going salamandyr looked ready to fight. She didn’t appear to notice the movement around her though. The tension was held why she slept, and her breathing was even, perfectly in tune with that of her mindmate; Sprite was sound asleep, but those who were versed with salamandyrs would recognize that when she woke, it would be with a fury entirely uncharacteristic of her – she’d been glowing long enough to leave little question of what was to come next. Though none of her clutchsisters had Run yet, she was definitely overdue. Shy little Sprite would soon command the air.

Anzask was oblivious to what was wrong with his little worm, though. The blue wher woke early, partially stemmed by how deeply His was sleeping, and he rested his forelegs on the side of the bed to get a closer look at Sprite. Curiously, he nosed at the green and then flopped over onto his side, rolling about to bat the air with his claws. When his movement received no response, he flipped back right side up and flared his wings nervously. A low whine escaped him and Anzask stood back on his hind legs to nudge at Sprite again. Why was she so bright? Hurt his eyes, it did. Maybe His could make Sprite stop being so bright? Swishing his tail, Anzask turned his attention from the slumbering green who was oblivious to his presence and started nudging his handler in the leg. Wakey, wakey, Anzlove. Time to get up and make the shiny stop. Shiny hurt his eyes. Surely she knew that? Sprite wouldn’t mean to but it hurt, please make it go away…?

“M’sleepy,” Anz complained, batting at Anzask’s nose with one hand. He rolled over onto his stomach and attempted (unsuccessfully) to burrow into the furs. “Shh, will feed you later – sleepy now. Sleep. Sleeeeeep.”

Wings uncurled slowly from the bed post, and Sprite’s body moved. Anzask bounced twice in his spot, nervously turning to watch her with an intensity that could only be described as fear. He whined louder, confusion whirling in his eyes. Then Sprite leapt off the bedpost and Anz rolled over onto his side, watching her as well. Her eyes were stained red-violet, a hue not at all typical of her but somehow flattering. The salamandyr turned to look back at him for a moment, her frill flaring threateningly before she leapt forward, onto Anzask’s head. Her wings spread wide, showing off her size (which somehow was anything but impressive, though seemed larger thanks to the uncanny glow of her hide). Everyone around her was ignored as she threw her head back and gave voice to a deafening howl that was high-pitched but distinctly reminiscent of a wher. Most females bugled. Not her. She was Sprite – and she’d howl if she wanted to.

Catch Spriteling if you can! she offered, projecting into the minds of everyone nearby. And then without a second of hesitation, she flung herself off of Anzask’s head and bolted out of the wherhandler’s apartments, moving like a bolt of glowing lightning. For the moment, her confidence lasted – but how long would remain to be seen.

On the bed, Anz actually froze, while Anzask gave voice to a loud whine and proceeded to scramble after the salamandyr. She was playing tag, wasn’t she? He’d play with her, he would~ maybe if she was It, she’d let Theirs go. He didn’t like the sudden foggy distance in His’s mind, no no no, he did not… so very odd…

[rii]

This was bad.

"Uh.. " Quintrell stood on his side of the shared room, blankly staring over at Anz. He had gotten up just a moment ago, ready to whisk off toward the kitchens for the first meal of the night. Only.. Weight began to shift back and forth between his two feet, clearly upset by the building of events around him and the thoughts circling in his head. His fingers were rolling the ends of his shirt between tips and his dark brown eyes kept flicking in the direction Sprite had run–with Anzask on her tail. That glow, the behavior, the message she broadcast. Running, that's what it was called for Salamandyrs, the equivalent of a green dragon rising.

"Anz.. uhm," Oddly speechless for a chatterbox. Quintrell was torn between bolting out the door to get away from it all, and staying put and trying to help prevent anything from happening. Running meant Anz would run, and in the end that meant sex–not really a bad concept, but but.. that was bad for Wherlings, wasn't it? Quintrell couldn't exactly remember why but had the impression that being intimate while bonded to a young creature had bad results. And Anzask, shardit, that blue was chasing after Sprite like it was all a damn game! It wasn't a game. This was serious! And Quintrell didn't like serious. But he didn't want anything to happen to his roommate. Anz was nice, Anzask, too, was a lot of fun, and poor Sprite–she'd be devastated if she knew what her running may have caused. Anzask, Trel didn't want a broken blue wher as a roomie..

Ugh, he felt sick, he wanted to run out the open door–oh no, couldn't let those damn chaser get in–couldn't allow Anz to get out to get nabbed by their lusty hands. "This is bad. This is bad. Not good. Not good." Quintrell had taken to wringing his hands, anything to keep the panic from running amuck. He had to do something but what? The thief was a very selfish thing that opted to save his own hide before that of others. A nuzzle against his thigh made him lower a hand and stroke the sleek, brown head of the wher currently trying to comfort him. Quintresk's eyes had begun to swirl with yellow, becoming distressed by his bonded's mounting sense of unease. They had to do something. No one else was around to take action. Continuing to stroke the brown's head, Quintrell slowly calmed himself down, pushing back the ansty instinct to take flight and high-tail it out of the room.

"Soldier!" Quintrell barked down at Quintresk while pointing an accusing finger at Anz. The brown had already sprung forward, responding to the plan brewing inside the thief's head. "The prisoner thinks he can escape. Restrain him!"

The brown, already getting large (more of long) for his age and size, deftly climbed up onto the bed and promptly laid down, full weight, on top of the youth. His whip-like tail curled tightly around the boy's leg. He tried to send a message out to his clutchbrother who had run out–hoping the blue had not gone too far as to not hear him. The impression, while not hostile, still took on a firm scolding. Leave the Spriteling alone. Come back.

"Good work men! Now to stack our defenses. The enemy is fast approaching. They're quick, but stupid. Bar the doors! Get to your positions! We'll never surrender him. YOU HEAR ME!? NEVER!" He shook his fist at the open door way–oh right, barricade the entryway. The thief sprinted over to his dresser, put his shoulder to wood and began to push it over to the door..

He paused when he got near, curling a hand around the frame and leaning out to yell into the darkness. "Anzask! Get your blue hide back in here soldier! How dare you abandon your post! I'm going to take this to the highest authority! I will see to it that they whip your defecting behind if you don't get in here now!"

[Rowana]

...and Garaeth says that His is almost fixed. Do you think they will fly with us again? When Hepeticath's hatchlings are bigger we should fly with them! I can teach them! Do you think they will be bigger than me? I am much bigger now. Farryl yawned, only half listening to Peppeth's ramblings. She had been lonely of late, without Ebolath or Cherilith to talk to. She knew she was partly to blame, but with so much going on, no one had been in a very companionable mood, much less prepared to play with a bouncy little green. Maybe tomorrow she would take Peppeth flying to some of the Holds. Millieth was going to rise soon, and they were Searchriders now. Besides, the change would be good for her.

A familiar tickle entered her mind and she felt a weight leave her shoulder. "Hobbs?" A few disconnected feelings and pictures flashed into her mind. A bright green salamandyr and the thrill of a chase. Silly greenworm. Zellos spat in a bored tone. Farryl shrugged. Hobbs had chased other fire lizards before, though this was his first salamandyr. She knew she wouldn't get more than the occasional picture and amorous feeling. It would make her more prone to hugging people at random, but she was on her way to bed anyway. She glanced briefly at Zellos and was glad to see he should no interest in chasing too. That was something she did not want to deal with.

Hobbs looped playfully through the air until he spotted Sprite darted out of the wherhandler apartments. There was his lovely! He trilled a happy song for her. She was worthy of his finest singing! Did she like pretty music? He could sing more for her if she liked it. Hobbs spiraled closer to the ground. He knew better than to try and run as she did. He would be clumsy and slow. So he stayed in the air, flying as close to the ground as he could without bruising his wing tips. Such a beautiful lady, he sang with delight.

[Requiem]

Dmisk's head lifted, eyes whirling in slow blues and greens with just a tint toward yellow. Something strange was going on. He glanced over at His, the music maker half on the floor after thrashing around on the cot all day. One leg was still on the cot...but that was about it. Dmisk had elected not to wake him. His was always tremendously foul-tempered when awoken.

The blue padded toward the half-open door in silence, easing it open and venturing a quick glance. It was still a bit bright for his tastes. Wait, what was the undisciplined blue doing chasing that little squirmy insect thing? Those insects had bonds like whers did. He couldn't eat it...that would be bad. Dmisk slipped out of the door, bounding lightly after his clutchbrother. Anzask. Don't eat the crawly. Come back.

While Dmisk's departure didn't awaken the boy, the screaming did. What the shards?! Dmitri twitched, his leg hit the floor, and he jumped, now fully awake. He scrambled up, only to entangle in his own sheets and faceplant rather fantastically onto the hard floor. "Shardit." Clutching at his nose, he ignored the blood seeping through his fingers, grasped at the trousers hanging half-off the bed and struggled into them one-handed. What was this about defections and whippings and maintaining positions? Were they under attack? And where was Dmisk? Oh just collecting Anzask who was trying to eat a 'crawly' whatever that was. No, no, wait, Dmisk shouldn't be out there alone.

The blue ignored him. There was no one out here...just Anzask and him. Dmitri crept for the door, slithering out of it belly-down. "Trell! What are you going on about?" He quickly darted into the small space between the door and whatever it was the little ring-thieving brownhandler was pushing into place. "And...huh?" He stared at Quintresk dumbly. All the whers were going mad, clearly. Maybe they were under attack.

---

Yelling coming from the wherhandler apartments. M'ta didn't really pay it any mind. Some of the wherhandlers in there were - excitable - if he was going to give it a diplomatic term. It wasn't altogether unusual to hear commotions going on in there. Even someone as paranoid as the brownrider heard it too often to get curious. Sliding the blade down the long shaft, he continued to shave off long, unbroken curls of wood. After spending half the day attempting to 'tickle' fish like he'd seen Z'hin do upon occasion - M'ta liked to find his own food occasionally to be sure he still could in the event it became a necessity - he'd decided a spear would likely work better. He just wasn't any good at the whole catch a fish with your bare hands thing. The point would have to be hardened in fire before it could be used, though...

"That's not helpful, P.M.S." The mandyr bounced on the end of the spear, trilling Fish! over and over. "I'll never get it done, and you'll never get to see the fish." That made the little one stop for a moment, but only a moment. He then dropped from the end, clinging to it only by his tail, attention intent upon something else. Again, nothing terribly unusual. P.M.S. had the attention span of a mite.

It's getting darker, Ruth commented from his position in a bed of leaves. Maybe the Jingth queen will be there when we get back. "Not likely. They don't really let them out..." He glanced at the brown, who had huffed in disappointment. "But Checkoth will be there. Probably should get going." It wasn't as if the mandyr was going to allow him to finish this anytime soon anyway. As M'ta stood, however, the familiar disconnection surfaced, his eyes unfocusing for a moment. He leaned heavily on the stick. "Ruth?"

Not me this time. I think he's interested in the 'spriteling' that was announcing earlier. "Inconvenient," M'ta commented, rubbing at his temple. At least it was P.M.S. though...he never actually ended up with anyone because the salamandyr couldn't keep his attention on a Run long enough to finish. Small blessings.

The salamandyr released the end of the pole, hitting the ground running. Yellow-green shiny glow, like a beacon in the darkening sky. He didn't know why the big blue thing was Chasing...didn't it know it would squash her? Moving at an angle that would have him intercepting the pair, the salamandyr darted half up a nearby tree and jumped onto the wher's head, quickly coiling his tail around a headknob to keep in place, bouncing slightly before he got his balance. Fish, he scolded the creature, darting forward and leaping off the snout with a whip of his tail to put the wher in its place. Not allowed to hurt the spriteling!

Of course, he was going much too fast jumping from a moving wher, the little mandyr going into a headlong tumble, curling up to try to protect himself. He hit the rock going pretty fast and was thrown into the air, uncoiling with a nervous trill...but with the help of his slender wings, he managed to slow down enough when he hit earth again not to start rolling all over the place. P.M.S. pulled up, disoriented. Ah, there was the flash! He took off after her, trilling happily. Come back, little spriteling, come back!

The firelizard went completely ignored. Of course she was attracting creatures of other species...she was perfect.

[Kisha-Ra]

Yoalla groaned, okay it was nearly time to get up anyway, which was the only reason she’d been woken by the noise outside her door, well that and the fact that Yosk was worried by all the goings on.

‘It is far to early in, um, the evening, for this.’ She hissed, speaking and moving quietly so she wouldn’t wake her room mate, assuming the row going on outside hadn’t already done that. Ignoring the fact that she was only wearing a shirt and some underwear Yoalla crossed to the door, opened it and let herself and Yosk out into the corridor.

Once outside the room Yoalla shut the door and looked around. She wasn’t surprised to see Dmitri around somehow. ‘Alright. Would anyone like to explain what in the name of the first egg is going on out here? If this is someone’s idea of a funny joke there is going to be some trouble.’ Yoalla spoke slowly and calmly, leaning against her doorframe as she did so. She wasn’t sure what sort of trouble she could provide but she was sure she could come up with some given the right incentive.

Yosk sent a timid inquiry off after her blue brothers. What were they doing, was this a new game? Could she play too? The green moved off at a high speed slink to try and find out a few answers, with any luck hers wouldn’t mind if Yosk shared the answers with her.



Trick raced and bounded across the ground. He was going to be late! He didn’t want to be late but the Spriteling was so far away when she called. How would he ever be able to impress her with his wide selection of amazing tricks if he couldn’t catch up? The brown salamandyr raced up the nearest tree and took off in a short glide, hoping to be able to pinpoint the chase from the air. Ah, there it was, there she was!

Trick folded his wings and dropped unceremoniously from the sky now that he had a location. His legs started moving as he hit the ground, propelling him forward in a series of joyful bounds. Trick coming now. Good Trick funny Trick. HERE TRICK! The salamandyr burst into the middle of the strange procession of creatures, weaving between Anzask’s feet at high speed while making a passable imitation of a human breaking wind. Stupid, didn’t he know he couldn’t catch a Spriteling? He was far too big!

[glamourie]

Huh? Anzask skidded to a stop mid-leap and he slid across the floor into one of the nearby walls (gently, though). His eyes whirled and he barked back at Quintresk curiously; did he want to play then? Confused, Anzask wagged his tail in an almost-canine fashion, and turned his head to look at his brown clutchbrother. However, the instruction was heeded; he didn’t want to make Quintresk mad at him, no he didn’t, so he reluctantly watched Sprite’s form disappear before the blue scrambled back to his feet. He threw his head back and howled before positively bowling down the hallway, then he threw himself forward onto Quintrell’s bed with a loud enough thunk to make some people turn and stare; it certainly sounded like a cannon ball hitting a wall. Another was addressing him, his quiet blue brother who never spoke, and he leapt back to his feet anxiously. What, what? Don’t eat the – oh, but he wasn’t going to eat Spriteling, didn’t they know? She was playing tag. He turned back toward the door, looking in the direction of Dmisk before projecting forth his interest – why ever would anyone want to eat the Spriteling? She wasn’t even a mouthful. So confusing! (He didn’t even notice the other creatures arriving, or he probably would have felt quite bad; as it was, he narrowly managed to avoid clamoring on top of Trick, and it was fortunate that he was oblivious!)

His wings fluttered and he purred, rolling over onto his back like an overgrown feline. His gaze fixed on Quintresk instead. He was scared, he was – His was behaving very oddly, indeed, and so was the Spriteling. Not at all like them. Squirming, the blue wher turned to look at Quintrell as he spoke and his eyes whirled his befuddlement before –oh. Oh, game. His must have been busy, so this one was playing with him. That explained it! A low, happy croon escaped him and he bounced over to one of the free beds, standing up on his hind legs before barking again. He was a good soldier, see? He’d stay at his post. Spriteling left, tch, she would be taken to the highest authority for playing on duty! Did Dmisk want to play with them? Dmisk should have played with them. Maybe if everyone played, he wouldn’t miss His who wasn’t playing… even if His was his favorite playing partner of all…

Anz, meanwhile, was lost in a flurry of sensations that he didn’t fully understand. Half of him wanted to thrash underneath the brown wher that was perching so precariously on top of him; he wanted to thrash and scream; it hadn’t caught him, it hadn’t, it hadn’t. The other half of him – the half that was Anzalorin – wanted to tickle Quintresk; he wasn’t a perch, didn’t he know that? The confusion resulted in him squirming awkwardly, the sounds Quintrell was making only half-reaching him. He could hear words – different voices – but their meaning was lost. He squirmed, pushing his palms against Quintresk, but he didn’t scratch. It was testament to Sprite’s good demeanor that he didn’t even try to harm, merely wiggling about in his attempt to escape. He needed to run, didn’t they see that? A soft whine escaped his throat and he pushed absently at Quintresk, squirming, before mumbling something incoherent that sounded vaguely like “Gonnagetme!”

Yosk’s inquiry made Anzask roll over onto his side and he barked pleasantly to her before his eyes whirled happily. She could play, she could. Please come over and play! She could be a soldier too. He moved across the bed and made room for Yosk if she wished to come. Play, play.

Unlike the rest, Sprite was not quite so enthusiastic. She bolted out of the wherhandler apartments with a speed uncharacteristic of her, almost tripping over her own tail twice in the process before she took off down the halls at as fast a speed as she could accomplish. She took to jumping to get further along, running and leaping every few seconds to increase her speed. Never once did she look back, although an odd feeling of pressure on her back made Sprite whine low in her throat. If something was sitting on her, it could just come along for the ride – she had to run. She had to, didn’t they see that?

Why did she have to run? Answer: They were chasing her! Probably wanted to tell her how ugly she was.

Fright passed over Sprite’s face and she squeaked back to the chasers she had in alarm. Scrambling forward, her claws scratching against the ground, she turned the corner of the hallway and took a flying leap to one of the legs of the cribs in the crèche. Fear colored through her eyes and she squeaked again before daring a glance over her shoulder. That was a mistake, as it caused her claws to come free and she slipped down the crib leg with an audible screech that made the baby within start crying. Still she squirmed, managing to dart under the crib before bolting into the hallway in the direction of the exit. She wanted to climb, to be high up in the air and she didn’t want to let them catch her to make fun of her. She didn’t! The only reason three handsome males would ever chase her was to tell her how ugly she was…

[rii]

Good, one blue wher returned to the fort. Quintrell watched him pass, arms folded behind himself, back ramrod straight and looking down the length of his nose. A single eyebrow rose, as he followed the blue's movements over to the cot. Only then an approving nod was given, stance relaxing. "A wise decision you made, soldier. Don't be afraid, the enemy is closing in, so don't start pissing in your britches yet, the fight hasn't even–"

Movement, some shirtless male had snuck in–the thief flung himself at the intruder, shoulder making a hard impact with Dmitri's chest as he tackled the taller youth to the floor. Unnoticed the way Quintresk's eyes bled more into the yellow shades, stressing to his bonded that the music maker was friend was safe. Quintrell had already climbed on top of the harper, ringed fist pulled back and ready to strike the brute that dared to touch Anz and in turn hurt poor happy-go-lucky Anzask. No one innocent and happy as the blue should ever have to suffer. The brown's mental urgings (thought he obiediently stayed at his 'post') managed to worm in through Trel's haze. Ally.

"Yer late," he growled down at the harper, but didn't let him up just yet. The fist remained poised to strike, but he extended one finger to point accusingly at the boy's face. "Couldn't be troubled ta get in uniform, eh? Kid, you best start takin' this seriously or we're gonna put you out there on the front lines instead of guard detail." His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, voice dipping to a menacing note. "Yer either with us, or against us. N'lemme tell ya kid, cross me and I'ma gut ya open. Spill yer guts all over the place n'shove a pike up yer ass. We'll put yer writhin' corpse out there for all the others ta see, send a message ta anyone else thinkin'af defectin'."

Quintrell gave a shove at Dmitri before rising and moving back toward the door–intent on closing the room off. "Soldier!" He barked, pivoting sharply to face Anzask. "Keep n'eye on that one." His arm snapped out, pointing at Dmitri. "Dunnae if he's gunna run or whatnots. Be ready ta take action if he tries ta rise against us."

Quintresk arched his slender neck away from Anz, neck ridges prominent and dangerous in the positioning. He peered down at the squirming boy beneath him. Confused, so confused about what was going on. Even the brown knew, could sense it, something was different about the boy. What was going on? A small, reassuring lick was given to the underside of Anz's jaw. Then he laid his head back down over Anz's chest. Everything would be alright. They were doing it to protect his clutchbrother, right?

Stomping over to the door, Trel made to close the thing when he heard another voice. Browns eyes, hardened with the role of leader, snapped up and eyed Yoalla just across the hallway. "Ye just gonna stand there like a useless trollop or wot?" He planted on hand on top of the wood before quickly vaulted over the dresser and out the door, seizing Yoalla by the upper arm and dragging her across the wide hallway and into the fort. "Yer a soldier now n'dun think you can get outta it by spreadin' yer legs. Thats the past girl, nows the time ta fight and if any of you–" Quintrell's voice rose, addressing the room and throwing accusing looks at those present and those not present. "–gets ta thinkin' of touchin' her, I'ma cut yer dicks off n'feed'em to the mutts outside. War is brewin' so start thinkin' with the head on yer shoulders. If she wants ta entertain ya later, that's her choice. Don't start gettin' any hopes up men. Ballsy one, she is. Prolly out fight all yas."

Quintrell dropped her arm and moved back to the door (not paying mind to any whers that came in during his shoutings, they weren't the enemy) and slammed it shut. The dresser was then shoved up against the frame to prevent it from opening–at least not without trouble and against a battalion of men. He leaped up onto the wood, whipping around to view the room, daring any of them to rebel. He spread his legs wide in a solid stance, hands folded calmly behind the back as he met the eyes of the scared collection of youth that hardly seen a day outside the creche. Pathetic, couldn't they give him some real men to command. How insulting to stick him with a bunch of children with nothing but sticks to defend the base. Quintrell snorted. "If any yas gotta problem, shut yer traps. None of us wanna hear yer wailing. Shouldn't of tak'n the breast outta yer mouths if ye didn't want to leave yer coddling mothers. If ye so much as sniffle I'ma set you right."

One hand violently gestured to the wall behind him, beyond that the hallway and the enemy. "Dun blame the spritling. She's but a babe in all this, much like yerselves, but she put us in a spot of danger. The enemy comes and they seek ta steal Anz. Why we dun protest ta this much, their true aim is far more sinister." He gave a glance toward Anzask, not voicing the reason because he didn't want to alarm the little solider. "And we won't let that happen. Never. Ye hear me? Now get ta work."

[Kisha-Ra]

Yoalla continued to lean against her doorframe, still not entirely certain as to what was going on, quite a bit of the chaos seemed to be centred around the young whers, who were at least gradually getting sorted out. Some seemed excited, some worried, but even Anzask seemed to be giving up, although he did so in the noisiest way possible. Yoalla didn’t know what the wher had run into but she hoped that wasn’t the sound of it breaking. Now if she could just work out what the other humans were doing and get them to stop it, that would be just fine.

Yosk crooned happily, giddy with relief, it was all a game? That was alright then, of course she’d come and play with Anzask. Aside from anything else Yosk didn’t like the thought of Anzask not being happy, and playing made him happy didn’t it? It wasn’t such a big thing to keep her clutchbrother happy, as long as no one laughed at her. Yosk trotted into the room as Quintresk’s left and hopped up on the bunk beside Anzask. What were they supposed to be doing exactly?

Yoalla found herself being towed across the corridor and shouted at by Quintrell. Had he completely lost it or what? He certainly sounded cracked. Inside the room it appeared everything was just as confusing as it was outside. Apparently she was soldier now… if Quintresk hadn’t looked so calm, although the wher was stretched out on top of Anz, she would have thumped Quintrell over the head and hauled him off to the infirmary right there and then. He sounded like he needed a mindhealer soonest. If she didn’t find out what was going on she’d keep that option in reserve.

Anz muttered something that took Yoalla’s attention far more than Quintrell’s raving, what was up with him? Was he ill? Her eyes flicked to Quintrell again, well they did say stress could send people over the edge. She sent her ideas over to Yosk since she was currently being manhandled and having her hearing severely damaged by Quintrell.

Yosk slipped away from Anzask, as bewildered by all the shouting as Yoalla was. Did this game need quite so much noise? The green slunk over to Quintresk and Anzask’s and put her front paws up on such free space as was available. Was Anzask’s alright? She inquired. Did he need the healers? What was going on? Yosk stretched herself out to touch Quintresk with her muzzle. Worried. It was worrying. What should she do?

Released Yoalla backed off from Quintrell, needlessly as he slammed the door shut loudly enough to wake everyone else and shoved the dresser aginst it. Oh whoopee, now they were trapped in here with a potential madman. Well she’d better listen to him then, if this was some kind of stress related thing she might be able to get to the bottom of at least some of it by listening. Plus it wouldn’t take any extra effort since Quintrell was shouting so loudly.

Okay, so they were supposed to defend Anz from people outside who were coming to take him away or something. Sounded like a delusion to her, but where did Sprite and Anzask fit into all this, and why was Anz acting so strangely? In sheer desperation Yoalla tried to make eye contact with Dmitri to see if he knew any more than she did, and she really didn’t care for the harper boy at all. Incidentally she’d quite like to know what happened to his face as well. Discreetly Yoalla drifted that way.



Trick produced a darter call imitation that he was quite proud of mastering to try and gain Sprite’s attention, but it seemed to only serve to spur her on into a series of leaps and bounds away from him. Oh cruel mistress! Well if she was running away Trick was chasing her. The brown bounded and leapt along, mimicking Sprite’s steps, although without the near tripping over, copying that, he felt, would not be a complement.

Trick’s claws scrabbled madly against the ground as he cornered, trying to pick up speed and catch up to the Spriteling. He wanted, he needed. Where? There, up by the little human hatchling. Trick rushed forward, leapt, and tried to change his mind halfway through as Sprite went under the crib. Unfortunately for Trick he was now fully committed to the leap, so he did the best he could, flapping his little mandyr wings madly to try and hurry it up. He was down! Good! Now over. Trick bounced over the child, noisy little thing, there was something he didn’t want to copy, and ran down the other side. He hadn’t even got a chance to show her a single trick yet…

‘I am going to kill him. Twice. When I get my hands on that little brown sneak…’ R’fuin growled, stalking along vaguely unfocused. He was never going to laugh at Darya’s complaints again. She had a very valid point R’fuin was coming to realise, although it seemed that Trick didn’t have as great a hold on him as Darya’s mandyr did on her. R’fuin totally ignored the fact that he didn’t actually know where he was going, and couldn’t say with any certainly where he actually was at the moment. At least Trick had the decency to chase another salamandyr, he just had to find the green’s bonded. Wherever he or she might be...

[Requiem]

Dmisk wasn't sure why they'd want to eat the 'spriteling,' but he didn't respond to Anzask with that. Didn't respond at all, in fact, but with a vague sense of approval as his more wild blue brother stopped doing such unnatural things and turned back. He followed the other wher, sparing a glance and a reassuring mental touch for her...she looked as confused as he felt. Everything was a confused mess, and - he paused in the doorway, the wher's back hunching, muscles coiling as his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

At that same moment Dmitri hit the floor, stunned and breathless from the unexpected attack. His legs coiled up beneath him just before Quintrell's legs straddled his chest, the harper staring up at the smaller wherhandler dumbly. The little thief. That was where his ring had gotten off to! In the next moment he realized he should probably be more concerned about what Trell planned to do with that fist. "Hey, hold on a second!" Only it came out rather garbled and breathy. Fun.

The kid's accent was ridiculously thick, and it would have been humorous if Dmitri didn't already have it in his head that they were being attacked...and if the brownhandler himself wasn't so dead serious. "Uniform?" He'd just woken up, for Faranth's sake, and since when did they have uniforms? Ooh blood from the nose. Apparently the fall hadn't helped it any. Deciding he'd rather not be gutted and then have a pike shoved up his arse (presumably before the gutting killed him), but not sure what the boy was babbling about, he elected to remain silent and hope that would be taken as affirmation.

Unfortunately, Dmitri's skull was still somewhat bruised from his brush with the mindhealer and a rather inconvenient chair that liked to trip up harpers, and after faceplanting and the tackle, when he was pushed back this third time the violence of the action caused him to black out for a couple of seconds. Dmisk's stance in the doorway was one of clear upset. Even aggression. But Dmitri reached for him, and the blue reluctantly left his position to go sit by His, coiled protectively half-around the harper who'd managed to get himself into a sitting position. Dmisk informed Quintresk that he'd best keep His in check, with all the cold of the icy northern mountains.

Demi blinked up at Yoalla, even as he wiped more blood off on his arm (nasty as that was, there weren't many other options). It finally occurred to him just what was taking place, and he sighed, leaning his head against Dmisk. Stupid, stupid kid. And when all the other wherlings were just getting up, too. He caught Yoalla's gaze, his eyes flicking toward Dmisk in clear indication to come near him. If Quintrell got too crazy, the blue would protect them both. Dmitri wasn't any good at fending off violence - clearly.

"You do realize that you should have barricaded the barracks if you didn't want anyone to get in," Dmitri stated quietly, if only because they still had time to do so, and he wondered just how far this strain of insanity went. "Because they'll just be more frenzied if they can't get through that door...and there are rooms full of wherlings all through here." In his opinion? It was unfortunate that the mandyr was Running, but at least Anzalorin would want the attention. It would be much worse for any wherlings who happened to get caught up in this whole thing.

---

P.M.S. bounded along after the spriteling happily. What a magnificent game! Bounce, bounce, bounce! He darted to one side and bounced off the wall, too. Double bounce! Could he do a triple bounce? Probably, just had to find a...oooh, moving leg, bounce, bounce, bounce. The sky-colored mandyr whipped around another foot that smelled too yucky to be of much use for bouncing. He attempted the wing thing, too, but his wings only made funny noises (and slowed him down) doing nothing to keep him in the air any longer.

Wait, why was she afraid? Confused, P.M.S. chanced a glance behind him and ran smack into the crib leg, the blue letting out a little shocked sound as he pulled back and shook himself, frill flaring. Oh, bad, bad wooden thingy! He didn't see what was so scary, but was that humanling thing screeching something awful right now. Where was the baddy that everyone but him seemed to know about? Nervous now, he darted underneath the crib, having lost some time.

The spriteling was leaving, and he was all too happy to leave the evil, scary room behind. P.M.S. followed the beauty without hesitation, the game forgotten for the moment. He didn't bounce out the door, anyway. Fish, the blue told the lovely green reassuringly. They'd escape together! No need to be afraid.

M'ta growled softly to himself. Usually it didn't last this long...usually it was more of a flicker, building up but not quite reaching the point of taking over before something else caught the mandyr's interest. He was walking...somewhere...without even realizing his feet were moving, and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on his own thoughts. Like stopping the forward motion. He internally twitched. This was not going to go well, was it? Then the thoughts were gone, and the man broke out into a cheerful smile that looked very alien on his face. A game, a game, a game. A game of hide and seek.

Now where could the spriteling be hiding? He paused at a junction in the hallway, physically flitting one direction, then the other in indecision. Oh, oh, that one! It was this way, he just knew it. M'ta skipped down the hallway, headed for the wherling barracks.

[glamourie]

Darter? She heard a darter – darters were bad. The fear that Sprite held was amplified by the sound (she did not realize it was Trick and meant to impress her; despite being a typically kind salamandyr, she wasn’t always the most intelligent) and she squeaked loudly before throwing herself up onto a stair at the end of the hallway. The stone floors were recently cleaned and on them she could see reflections of her Chasers, and her little heart thudded faster in fear. But there was no darter reflected, come to try and eat them (she was the smallest so she’d probably be the one that the Evils tried to eat). She couldn’t find the source of the sound but – but the males were so pretty, they were, dancing around behind her in their own way. Part of her wanted to stop and stare but… but they’d see her and if they saw her they’d be mad. Mad that someone as ugly as her was looking at them. That fear kept her from stopping to admire them – admire their beauty. She squeaked and made her way up the stairs rather fast for so small a creature; it was much easier to do leaps and bounds up them than to try and climb things in the loud place. Loud things frightened little Sprite; it was why she liked Hers so much. He wasn’t loud.

Fish? Fish! Fish before Fruit, Sprite told P.M.S. quite seriously. She remembered that! But what did fishie-fish have to do with anything? Were they near? She scrambled up the stair and then turned to perch on the top, looking back (despite her better judgment) to inquire curiously, Do why? Her pause was only seconds long before she turned and positively bolted away again; they were going to get her, she knew, and she wasn’t about to be got by anyone. No she was not. She galloped up the stairs before flinging herself over the top one, onto the grassy clifftop. The dirt felt more welcoming under her claws and her frill flared momentarily before she managed to pick up speed, a little green blur of blinding light bolting through the grass. She was headed straight for the trees. She’d be able to climb those and then nobody would be able to get her, oh yes.

Anzask was… confused. Yes, confused. He watched Quintrell with a bemused sort of interest, his tail wagging back and forth; he didn’t understand half the words that the thief was saying, but that didn’t stop him from standing on his hind legs and barking his approval. When he turned to point to Dmitri, Anzask bounced off the bed and made his way over to him. He stopped in front of Dmitri and swiveled his head to look at Dmisk, crooning inquisitively; was it okay for him to play with His? He would be careful, he would. His head swiveled around and he yelped at Quintresk and Yosk playfully; this was all a very fun game, wasn’t it? He didn’t understand all the words but if they were soldiers, he could be a good soldier. His tail thumped on the ground happily. He didn’t want to do anything inappropriate, but he was told to make sure that one didn’t flee – though why he’d run from a game was anybody’s guess. Didn’t he want to have fun…?

“Fruit, fruit,” Anz muttered from under Quintresk before nudging the wher again. The lick made him thrash slightly and he actually whined in his throat, “Not edible! Don’t eat me.” Normally, Anz liked to play with Quintresk (when he’d let him) and he very much enjoyed his company as well as Quintrell’s but the mingling of Sprite’s mind with his had him squirming around. He finally became aware of the people all around and whined louder, trying to climb from underneath Quintresk as best he could. Didn’t the Scary know that he’d hurt him? He was a very small creature and the scary was a very large one in comparison. Anzalorin wiggled. “Don’t eat me don’t eat me am squished you’re squishing me don’t squish, stop… lemme up, lemme up, lemme up! Where’s the darter, don’t let it eat me, Anzaskmiiiine it’s going to eat me~”

The words had an almost magical effect on Anzask and he turned to bark inquisitively at Quintresk. Didn’t he know that handlers weren’t edible? The question made him nervous more than anything Anz was feeling and he whined in upset; no one needed to eat his. Please don’t!

[rii]

The base of the brown's tail rose, thumping lightly against Anz's leg–the rest too busy being curled around the limb. The brewing storm of all the different emotions in the room was not helping matters. They did not have to be here, His only wanted to protect their blue clutchsibling. Even his quiet clutchbrother was adding to the chaos. He reached out to Dmisk first, Sorry if the music maker got hurt. His thought he was an attacker and was only acting to protect their clutchbrother, and Quintresk had stopped His from hitting Dmisk's. Was the music maker alright? – Because Quintresk did care. He didn't want anyone to get hurt, and his was so afraid and he didn't know why. It couldn't have been a normal thing, because it was as if a mental block had gone up around his bonded's mind. Quintresk was doing his best to remain calm throughout all this–but everyone else was not helping matters.

The touch to his side made Quintresk lift a bit from Anz, turning to nuzzle his green clutchsister. Yes, he told her, Anzask's was alright – only acting strangely because of the spriteling. He didn't know why, but it meant that if someone came to get Anzask's bonded, then Anzask would get hurt. They didn't want Anzask to get hurt. They were protecting their clutchbrother. Everyone just needed to calm down.

Quintrell sneered, turning his sights on the squirmy boy opening his mouth rather than keep it shut and get to work. "Ye think yerself a hero, duncha. Lemme break it to ya kid, ye can't save 'em all. A day comes when ya gotta make a choice, and sumtimes ye have to make sacrifices n'guard what you can and not get everyone hurt 'cause ya tried to save 'em all. Life ain't fair, best git use to it."

The thief would not, could not, tolerate having to share a room with the bluehandler and every day look over and regret not having done something. To be reminded that he had been a coward and ran; he always ran, but he never stayed around long enough to regret. A rolling stone gathers no moss. Quintrell didn't make attachments, he just didn't, but this bothered him. He didn't want to look at Anzask if the blue got hurt. If the others, outside and capable of helping themselves, had not already left for their meals, then their own sharding fault. Quintrell wouldn't have to look at them every day.

Quintresk rose a bit from his position when Anz began to squirm even more. He turned to Anzask, he wasn't trying to eat His! That was silly. The thief hopped off of the dresser, moving toward the whining blue. He and the brown were closely linked, and even though Quintresk was having a hard time understanding the thief, the blonde still felt everything going on through the brown. He knelt down next to the young wher, gently rubbing his head in comfort. The smile was back on his face, bright and energetic. He didn't want Anzask to start getting upset, because the point of all this was to keep him safe, to keep the blue and his bonded safe. At least until they were older. Shard blasted salamandyr.

"Play?" Quintrell flipped over onto his back before the blue wher, poking cheerily at him. "Just a game. He'll get better, just need to play~"

[Rowana]

Hobbs lingered, his head dipping in confusion. He was scaring her? But he hadn't meant to. The blue crooned sadly. He was sorry. Would it be better if he left? He wanted to chase her. He wanted to catch her. She was so beautiful and sweet and so clever when she hid. But he didn't want to scare her. Hobbs stayed further back and above as he flew. What should he do? He was torn between a desire to chase and a desire to make her happy. He trilled in what he hoped was a welcoming tone. Did she want him to keep going? Maybe she would rather the others came instead. His tail drooped. They were her kind. Maybe that would be best.

[Requiem]

"Oh yes. That's what I am, a hero," he responded scornfully. Pretty little (hey, that was a reference to his general size, seeing as height apparently didn't save you from tackling, punch-happy midgets) harper boy with the attitude problem who was frequently shown up by floors, bedsheets, and other inanimate objects. And who fled wherries. Definitely met all the qualifications for 'hero.' Didn't take any courage to point out that Quintrell was being an idiot, though, and he was. What good was any of this doing, really? The boy was just scaring Anzalorin, which couldn't be helping Anzask any, if the blue wherhandler's protests were anything to go by.

Dmisk was calming now, mostly because His was coldly calm at this moment. He'd chosen the music maker for a reason, even if some didn't seem to understand that choice. The boy was genuinely hard to excite in any way that mattered, as evidenced by the almost bored way he was tracing patterns into the dust on the floor with one finger. The blue offered his clutchbrother a touch of reassurance. It was no matter. His clearly wasn't upset by it. Didn't the brown realize that he was scaring Anzask's human, though?

Eying his playful, too cute clutchbrother, Dmisk normally would have turned aside in clear dismissal. Play wasn't a worthy pasttime. But he was sensitive enough to the general upset that he finally responded with a quiet affirmative. Anzask could play with the music maker if he wished. Just nothing too rough...His was already leaking the red from his face. With that, the cold creature moved away from His, sliding toward his other two clutchsiblings and the cot, where he nosed at Quintresk in what could only be deemed a command of sorts. The brown should stop scaring Anzask's. This was a wild mess.

Dmitri, for his part, flicked the hair back over one shoulder and flashed a little lopsided smile at Anzask that was nothing short of ghastly with his chin still stained from the nosebleed. His words came out in cheerful tones so as not to upset the wher. "The problem isn't what happens, it's because the lust blocks him from His." No one ever said Dmitri couldn't pay attention in lessons - and reach his own conclusions. "Which is the same no matter what." He tossed his head, wondering if it would work like it did with felines as far as distractions went. Too annoyed with the other wherhandler to be near enough where he might pull hair or scratch him or something. "Dmisk says you're blocking out Quintresk right now, and he's upset. Shouldn't you be worried about that?"

The pleasant tones continued, dipping into something sickly sweet and decidedly mocking. "What do you plan to do when Sprite is caught?"

---

More bouncing. He did love the bounces, he did. P.M.S. forgot the invisible scary pretty much instantly, squeaking back at Sprite. A song? A song? He copied her squeaks exactly, proud of himself that he was winning. Wasn't he? No others were squeaking the song in perfect replication. (Actually, the blue was quite tone deaf and his squeaks didn't mirror hers at all, but let's not burst his bubble.)

The pause and backwards glance caused him to stop and tilt his head to one side, twittering at her inquiringly. He puffed out his chest a little, his frill flaring in display. Oh, what? It half-folded. She wanted fruit? That was weird. He personally preferred bugs, and fruit was usually too big to properly play with, but if that's what she wanted... Fruit, he responded. Yes, he would get her some. See how nice he was? Then she'd play with him some more, wouldn't she? Pretty pretty green.

The salamandyr went faster up the stairs, determined to accomplish this task as quickly as possible. But mandyr-sized fruit was a bit impossible to find on a time limit, and she was getting away. Did she not want him to bring her fruit after all? Just trying to leave him here? How sad. He only moped for a moment, though. No, of course not. She must just be distracted. It was easy to get distracted. He plucked up a nut, unwilling to return to her without anything at all, and skittered after her at full speed.

Wait, wait! He had a present! Fruit, he called to her apologetically. It wasn't fruit, but it was still yummy, right? Right? (If she liked fruit, she must like nuts.)

The skip had turned into what closely resembled someone playing hopskotch without a stone or boundaries. The normally dour man was bounding over cracks, arms partially lifted for balance. Mustn't step on one, mustn't. Then he'd lose the game and the spriteling would not want to play with someone who couldn't even avoid cracks. And he so wanted to play with the sweet one. (Yes, she was hiding, but he was certain she was watching and would know if he lost.)

Singing quietly, a cheerful little tune about clouds and birds and flowers on the hills in a voice that was rough and untrained, but at least could carry a tune better than P.M.S., he paused mid-bound and half-stumbled, breaking off mid-word. "Fruit?" Glancing around, he frowned slightly. Where was he to find fruit around here? He didn't want to leave because she might be gone by then.

Finally settling for flowers set on a table nearby - it grew like fruit did, didn't it? - he plucked up the entire vase and scurried forward, forgetting the crack game. Ah, the door! M'ta pushed it lightly. She was in there, he knew, and hopefully she'd forgive him for bringing flowers instead of fruit. But...it didn't open. He paused, frowning, and placed his shoulder against the door. Something screeched on the stone floor. Pausing, he blinked. Why was it blocked? Spriteling wouldn't do that!

He set down the vase and paced in front of the door, wringing his hands nervously. This wasn't good. "Spriteling?" he called softly. What if bad ones had taken her?

[Kisha-Ra]

Trick paused and whipped his head around, looking for whatever had scared the Spriteling. He saw nothing, no bad things here to scare off for her. Strange. Well he’d keep going, then if anything scary turned up he’d teach it a lesson He could do scary tricks too.

Trick hopped up stair after stair, bouncing lightly from side to side with as much concentration as if he was working his way through a complicated dance step. Must be pretty, must be clever. Bright little Spriteling would pay attention to him then. Fish? Fruit? Trick was mystified but if Spriteling wanted fish before fruit he would certainly find some for her. Fish before Fruit? No fish time now, later fish. he promised cheerfully, he couldn’t go and get fish now, he was no firelizard to hop from place to place in an eyeblink, so he hoped the promise of fish later would be good enough.

Apparently it was, or maybe it wasn’t and that was why she ran off again but the brown salamandyr his determined pursuit of the green, adding more and more pointless but pretty movements to his movement up the stairs. See? he was very nearly as pretty as Spriteling! However once outside Trick had to settle for moving very fast in a straight line as the Spriteling was only getting faster as she ran. Fast he muttered, possibly a compliment, possibly a reminder to himself.

R’fuin hopped bounced and danced his way along corridor after corridor with a slight frown of concentration on his face. He needed to look good for the pretty little green, wherever she was. Obviously he could never be as pretty and bright as her but he could try couldn’t he?

‘Fast.’ He muttered vaguely, suddenly taking up a sprint that took him in the wherhandler’s quarters. Fast like Spriteling, had to catch up to her, where was she now? R’fuin paused in the corridor and looked around. Stupid blue! Those were flowers, not fish. ‘Not fish.’ He mumbled turning to follow M’ta as the brownrider passed by. Yes the Spriteling was around here somewhere. In there? But Spriteling didn’t make a noise like that!



Yoalla winced as Dmitri smeared blood up his arm; he really was useless wasn’t he? Well, he did have a point, she decided as she interpreted his gaze, his wher wasn’t nearly so useless. Yoalla frowned as the harper began speaking, inadvertently giving her the last pieces that made everything fall into place. So the green mandyr was Running, and Quintrell had barricaded the door against… There were just some days, er, nights, when you really shouldn’t get out of bed.

Yosk turned her head back over her shoulder to look at Anzask uncertainly. Yes, Anzask certainly was a good solider (Yosk had no idea of what Anzask was talking about so she just gave what seemed be the required answer). With that the green turned back to Quintresk. Normally she would have been suspicious of such attention but the gentle touch against her hide was reassuring. If Quintresk was sure… but why was he sitting on Anzask’s exactly? He wanted to get away, didn’t he?

Yoalla leaned against the wall, chewed on her hair absent mindedly, and listened to Quintrell and Dmitri as she thought. What a pox ridden mess this was, and she was certainly prepared to admit that the number of whers and humans that had gotten into (or been dragged into) the room wasn’t helping much. Okay, the point of Quintrell’s sudden breakdown appeared to be to protect Anzask from being upset by Anz’s reaction to the salamandyr’s Run. However worthy this ambition might be it wasn’t working out as planned.

‘You do realise, as well as the obvious problems we have here, when the salamandyr chasers’ owners arrive here, and here I know I make an assumption that there are some, he’ll likely want their attention as much as they want his. We could be fighting chasers off at the door, restraining Anz in here, and still upsetting the whers.’ By the whers Yoalla really meant Anzask, at least in the main, but she didn’t want to single the blue out and upset him more. ‘As for when the mandyr’s caught, well I can try and get in the firing line if it comes to it, everyone knows I’ve had enough practice. I’m not too sure that’ll help at all though. Our best solution might even be to let them in, clear this room and go play somewhere else.’ She hoped she was making enough sense, and being clear enough for the humans, while being too obscure for the whers. A challenge indeed.

Just to put the whole tin lid on it there and then, the door went. 'Decide soon?' she suggested, glancing at the door.

[glamourie]

Jump, run, jump, run, fast, fast, fast. Sprite’s pace across the ground was rapidly growing more acrobatic, her jumps higher and more impressive; she would spread her wings to glide for several inches in order to propel herself forward faster and the very slight wind of dust was useful to keep her moving faster, faster. Instinct told her that her stamina was rapidly running down – the stairs hadn’t helped at all – but she was terrified. Positively horrified in fact. Sprite believed that far ahead, others would think she was pretty; after all, they couldn’t see that her eyes weren’t the same size or that her nose was upturned, that she had a hump on her back. They had no way of knowing the blinding color of her hide wasn’t that unusual. All they knew was that she was glowy for the moment… and she truly believed that every last one of those males chasing her would be mean when they realized that she was ugly all the time. And she was ugly. Not pretty like they were, not pretty like her clutchsisters Sylph and Skink – nothing about her was extraordinary. She didn’t want them to hate her. Had to run her little legs off, she did. She had to escape so that they didn’t notice – didn’t come to find out what they were actually chasing…

Trilling? Her frill flared and she dared a look over her shoulder at Hobbs, confusion rimming her purple-hued eyes. Pretty firelizard sounded so upset, had she upset him? Oh nooo. She didn’t want to upset! A low, melodious trill escaped her, directed back for the firelizard alone. He was too nice to be afraid – even if she was sure that when he saw her up close he’d hate her. Because they did. All of them would. Spriteling was not the prettiest salamandyr to ever hatch.

The squeaking from behind her was slightly reassuring and she flew herself forward, doing an impressive twist in the air before hitting the ground; it was her response to the ‘singing.’ She looked over her shoulder to see PMS with a… nut? Her eyes whirled pleasantly and she replied, Pretty fruit! Her happiness was evident, even though she knew enough to know that it wasn’t fruit at all – it was good enough for her. Such a nice mandyr; she’d remember and bring him a fruit later for his kindness. Maybe then he wouldn’t dislike her for being ugly. Oh how she wished that she could be as pretty as her clutchsisters. Maybe then others would forgive her for her not being the best salamandyr ever. Her nervousness made her jumps more erratic, less elegant – but nonetheless quite far. Salamandyrs could jump great distances when they tried… and she was trying.

Anzask turned to Quintrell and stared at him with confused eyes. His tail thumped the ground repeatedly before he nudged His again. His was confused, upset and worried about being eaten. He couldn’t play when Anz was scared he’d be eaten. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t they understand? He loved to play, he did, but Anz needed him, His needed him, it was important, it was. He turned back to Quintresk and inquisitively barked, asking without words for him to move. He would sit on His if it was so important that he be sat on; he didn’t see why it was, but His was hurting. Dmisk’s answer made him brighten and he stood up to slink against the other blue (mostly not-noticing Quintrell, aside from a gentle lick to the face). He wove himself against Dmitri’s legs like a cat and stood up, putting his front legs against the boy’s stomach, claws turned inward to be gentle. Would he help convince them not to eat His? So confusing, so upsetting – no eating!

“Don’t eat meeee,” Anz complained, reaching out toward Dmitri – because he was familiar, since Anzask was near him. Anzask wanted to play with him so maybe he could make the brown not eat him. “Spriteling not yummy, not yummy, no eat. Fruit, fruit, giiiiive… don’t eat meeee…”

Outside, Sprite went to jump again and instead of landing neatly on her feet, she spun. The damp ground caught under her and she collapsed onto her face, sliding through the mud embarrassingly. The momentary pause would put the two blues ahead of her, unless they were paying close attention, and she rolled over quickly – but her energy was almost spent. Instinct told her what to do and she did so, launching forward to grab onto Trick – the closest male to her – as he passed. A low creel escaped her before she pleadingly asked, Now Spriteling’s, now now? He would be Hers, wouldn’t he? Please, oh please…?