In Dire Straits

Forever-child, his family had called him, a gift from the gods as they cleansed him in cavern-water. Small enough to see but not be seen, to instigate sympathy with his mockingjay voice-- to never grow old, never bear children, he's drawn his face out of flowers, face powdered yellow and still could not smell--
The Tribe is dead to him, as he is dead to them, even if they somehow escaped an eruption-earthquake entombment in those tunnels he can still trace in his sleep. Saboro is his home now, as it has always been his master, and that makes it his responsibility. The chilly forest, their crumbling alliances and shattered bloodlines: Saboro will not die here. He won't allow it; not after he sacrificed his family for them.
Traditions die, though not so swiftly as those that hold them. Kitkun goes to the river, because it is evening and the black moon will soon rise. There are no elders to conduct a cleansing for him, so the pup-imposter will wash himself, clean the mud of this new home and bear his bone-marks to the lightless night. After all, he cannot smell, and therefore can never know what he smells like.
There is someone already on the shore, and it is easy to be quiet, when the wildlife is so loud. He believes he may have seen her once, at some large meeting that feels so long ago. There were so many faces to witness that than he will ever see again.
When she turns to him, her eyes have to shift down. Kitkun continues on toward the water; he must seem terribly impolite, caked as he is. She holds herself with grace, coat speckled in muted tones of old royalty. "It's good to recognize another face from before the move," he says, pausing for a kind nod. He cannot recall her name-- is not certain he has ever heard it before-- but let her bear the discomfort. Kitkun is careful to remember, although he himself is intentionally unmemorable.

---

Cassiopeia often felt herself wandering through the territory in an almost dream-like state. The more she interacted with the cooler climate the more she’d remind herself that this was her new home. It was real. She was still real. Sometimes, she’d get moments of wishing this was just a weird dream and she’d wake up again— Her mother in the temple, father teaching her medicinal practices, brothers spending time with their significant others… all content, happy family memories. But then, of course, the darkness swept over that thought and reminded her of the less happy things that had happened.

The eruption, watching her father nearly die, her parents breaking up… her family…. the relocation…. Mother? Dirge?

Wheezing she found herself stopped rather abruptly. Her heartbeat had increased, limbs quaking quietly. No, no, stop. Cassie grounded herself and took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her home and washing away the bloody, ashen smell and taste of old Saboro. The wind caught the scent of family and for a moment the ex-princess winced, those who she loved so deeply now brought her memories of sadness. She bared the burden of watching her mother leave without ever knowing when she’d come back, and now, she feared she never can.

Water, family, voices…? Cassiopeia reopened her eyes and glanced around, the reality set back in. Yes, this was Saboro, this was her home. Her family was still here… Some? One. Lexa. Cassie inhaled again and felt warmed by this truth. There was a river nearby and she could smell family. That is where she went, feet uprooting from the earth and bringing her to her last familial tie. Her eyes softened when she saw her sister from a distance. They’d grown so much.

Ascending down to the edge of the river, she nudged her earthy toned sister during her thoughtful trance with quiet greed. “You’re still here…” She nearly whispered, words of confirmation for her own sanity. She knew Lexa wasn’t going to leave, but some days, fear was loud.

“Any… luck?” Cassie knew her sister would never give up just as she for finding their family; their difference was how they went about it and she knew Lexa was more ambitious as a whole than she. So many missing faces still. Consumed by her personal sight, Cassiopeia had missed the presence of another, to which she was immediately embarrassed.

“Oh, I’m … so sorry.” Her tone was sheepish, quick to nod in apology. “I didn’t mean to interrupt..” Eyes danced from the muddy stranger to her sister, clear in her genuine feelings.

He walks on towards the water, and wades in until he is almost entirely obscured, until he tilts his head up just to breathe. The siblings share a private moment, and Kitkun closes his eyes, washes away dirt and memory. He emerges only moments later, small and sopping. The princess he knows not by name, but recognizes from having appeared at a rather eventful meeting, framed by a hellion and what would later be the Sabor. "No interruption at all," he allays, shaking his thin fur out just slightly downwind. He can't smell, and can't be certain how thorough he was by vision on a night like this. He takes them in momentarily: they don't look similar, but proximity says the two girls are close, if not genetically. Ages line up, and he longs for a name. Luckily, Lexa is already ahead of him.
"Vance," the Ethiopian admits, cordial and too well-spoken for his evident age. He doubts his condition is a topic of much interest in Saboro, but still, it's strange to be seen as an adult. Mannerism must give him away. "May I inquire the same?"
Kitkun didn't overhear much of their exchange, but he shakes himself out, and stares out on the cold steam that hovers over the lake. It's an uncomfortable kind of quiet. "I've developed quite a dislike for fog." Of course, the new biome of Saboro is fraught with it.