Somewhere Chilly

A pleasant little vale, even if the temperature's a bit warm for
any sensible Unciae's tastes. Snow lies here only in small
scattered patches, though farther up, along many interesting-
looking paths, the snow is more prevalent.

Brighttail glances around, carefully, to make sure no-one's
     watching (or at least that she knows who is), before diving
     into the closest patch of snow and rolling for a moment.
     That serious matter dealt with, she looks around at the
     paths.

Brighttail examines an oddly pink, glittering rock, and opts for
     the trail it marks. The two-inch-thick ice slick further up
     shoudl really just be a challenge.

There are quite a few paths, here... well, most of them *could*
     be paths, if one used a little imagination and a good amount
     of ingenuity. One in particular draws the eye -- leading
     straight up the mountain, it seems, is a miniature ravine,
     snowy and tempting.

Brighttail leaps up the ravine marked by the glittering stone - a
     fairly careful but not particularly cautious eye out for the
     ice.

Keeping an eye on the trail itself proves fruitful, as you see
     paw prints in the snow. Definitely made by a snow leopard of
     pretty good size... Verdimm sized. Probably definitely.
     Surely so!

Brighttail scrabbles to a startled stop, sniffing at the prints.
     Someone's been here before her? Surely not anyone she
     knows... Other Unciae? All the way out here? That's half
     enough to make up for not being the first up the trail!
     Following the pawprints now, for trail and for footing, she
     bounds up the ravine again...

Brighttail tracks, whiskers forward, tail held high and curving.

The prints, remarkably, are scentless. Maybe they're just old,
     sheltered from being blown away by the wind.. just in front
     of you, a gust of wind disfigures one of the paw prints in
     the snow, disproving that notion. These prints must be
     fresh. The prints are easily followed, almost intentionally
     so, marking a stable and sturdy path through the icy rocks.
     Higher up it takes you, wending your way up the ravine, the
     ravine's walls rising higher and more enclosing, turning
     into almost a chute on the side of the mountain. The going
     is slower, the vertical more challenging; but if that other
     Unciae could do it, surely you can.

Brighttail pauses a moment as she realizes the prints are
     scentless, licking her lips thoughtfully as she ponders the
     image of a gigantic insect, perhaps some kind of huge,
     mountainous walking-stick, with the feet of true Verdimm. A
     shake of her head banishes the thought, and she moves on;
     tail curling this way and that for balance when needed,
     claws sinking into ice, paws spreading her weight on the
     snow.

The thought of a trick (very like one she herself might play) on
     the trail, a paw set by the previous Unciae just where
     another paw would send a follower sliding back down through
     the ravine, does occur to her; she considers it, and
     gleefully decides that if such a prank were played, the ride
     itself would be worth it.

The tracks lead on and on -- you had no idea this hill rose so
     high! Late morning's light fades to midafternoon by this
     time. The helpful prints always find the best footing, this
     is found out by a simple test from time to time. Whoever
     this Unciae or giant Verdimm-footed insect is, they know
     this path well, evidently. Eventually, just after your
     previous thought of a trick paw-print flees your thoughts,
     it happens precisely in that manner; a short span between
     two large rocks necessitates a leap, and all four paws land
     solidly on ice. Balance is, needless to say, completely lost
     for that crucial moment, and your begin to retrace your
     steps.... a whole lot more quickly than you came up, by
     tumbling and sliding (mostly the latter, as you regain some
     semblance of balance) down the rock and ice chute. Not a
     hundred or so feet down from the treacherous spot, the chute
     diverges from your original path, and the rocks along this
     seem to be coated with ice completely, causing your progress
     to become quite rapid.

Brighttail leaps, landing neatly on all four paws - and then
     gives a startled yowl as all four slide out from under her,
     bouncing her chin off the ice. She slips off the rock, then
     down the chute, and only then does the disturbing thought of
     'avalanche' strike her mind. She scrabbles for a few tens of
     feet, futilely. The divergence to the slicker, ice-coated
     chute eases that thought, and she settles into the bruising,
     bumpy ride, beginning to purr with delight at the unheard-of
     speed.

The ride is truly swift, though the scenery is perhaps
     disappointly dull, as the walls of the chute tower up high
     enough so that you can really only see sky. Sadly, the end
     of the ride comes into view all too quickly, as you speed
     towards an opening in the rock -- a cave. And alarmingly,
     you realize the speed at which you're travelling and an
     encounter with the doubtless very-hard rock wall of a cave
     will not be quite so pleasant as the ride itself.

Brighttail's purr rises to alarming volume, in expectation of
     pain rather than pleasure. Her claws slide out instinctively
     - then in again, before they are halfway, since at -this-
     speed they'd certainly be ripped off in the ice. Instead,
     she pushes with her paws, shoving her body around till for a
     moment she is actually sliding sideways, bracing against the
     ice-covered rock, trying to slow herself as much as she can;
     at the last moment, she twists again, as if she were midair
     and falling. She aims herself for the cave opening, with a
     quick, silent prayer - Grand Mother, let that darkness hold
     something softer than rock!

The last thing your eyes see is the cave opening, rushing towards
     you, then the sudden darkness of the interior of the cave...
     and the longer darkness that comes just after the rather
     abrupt encounter with what you can only assume to be the
     rear wall of the cave. You take a few moments to work this
     chain of events out just after you awaken.... only then
     realizing that you've awakened. Surprisingly, the expected
     pain isn't overwhelming -- just a few scrapes and bruises,
     it seems... lucky. The next step, of course, would be to
     open your eyes.

Brighttail considers opening her eyes. For a long time. She
     twitches her ears a little first, making sure they're
     functioning; then takes a few cautious sniffs of the air;
     finally, opens her eyes, slowly, and begins to reorient
     herself and get herself back on her feet. Caves are usually
     fascinating places; the question is only how big any
     potentially fascinating inhabitants might be, and whether or
     not they take exception to her presence.

You open your eyes... disappointly, vision remains rather dark.
     Of course, once your eyes adjust to the minimal amount of
     light in the cave, it's still pretty dark. There's no light,
     even, from the cave's opening, which is probably behind
     you -- it's hard to tell how much time has passed, but it
     could be night by now, which would account for the darkness.
     Details of the cave are hard to make out, but it doesn't
     seem particularly large, or seem to extend any farther into
     the mountain than the open space you're in now. The roof of
     the cave is somewhere farther above than you can really
     sense; the floor of the cave is slick with ice, making
     movement difficult. As for inhabitants, there's no sign; you
     may have lucked out, and fallen into an unclaimed cave,
     though in your experience, there are few like that.

Brighttail licks her lips again, thoughtfully, then moves on to
     her paw. As a matter of fact, barring the unexpected return
     of any inhabitants, she sits down and gives herself a proper
     grooming, after all the muss of that chute. The time it
     takes, she spends thinking. No light, no particular sound,
     not much in the way of scent. Finally, she lifts her head
     again, sniffing at the air; if she can find a direction in
     which the air seems fresher (probably behind her), she
     scoots herself around on the ice till she's facing that way,
     then starts digging her claws into the ice and alternately
     pulling and pushing herself along. Cold, yes, but it's
     movement. If she can't find the fresher, nighttime air, she
     guesses that the cave's opening is behind her anyway, and
     pushes herself along till she either slips outside or bumps
     her nose into a wall.

The air does seem a little fresher behind you; no particularly
     exciting scents, other than the outdoors, reaches you from
     that direction. You manage to turn yourself around without
     mishap, and dig your claws into the ice to pull yourself
     forward... only then noticing the pair of eyes focusing on
     you from a short ways away, in the direction you're now
     facing. The eyes vanish, once, as the owner blinks; then
     reappear, gazing steadily at you.

Brighttail licks her lips again, though it really isn't needed
     this time, just for the sake of thought.

Still, no scent comes from the eyes' owner, though a definite
     sense of amusement radiates from that uncommonly cold gaze.

Brighttail hesitates a moment longer at the lack of scent. A
     scentless trail, and scentless eyes... A less curious Unciae
     might wonder if whatever this is eats Verdimm; Brighttail
     pushes the thought aside and casts another outward,
     bespeaking a greeting as bright as her eyes. ~Grand Mother
     send you good hunting!~

The eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and move upward as the owner
     of those eyes raises their head. The presence before you
     does not reply in words or the mind-speech of the Verdimm,
     yet gives the impression of having heard, understood, and
     accepted. A breezy sigh originates from the area of the
     eyes, and a chill breath flows over you, ruffling your fur.
     Accompanying the chill comes a thin, icy mist, that flows
     across the cave's floor and slowly surrounds you.The mist
     gives off very faint luminscence, but separate from that,
     the form before you begins to become more apparent... though
     there is no light other than the mist, its faint
     luminescence seems to provide the eyes' owner's form with a
     far greater reflectiveness than that faint light would
     warrant. Taking form before you from darkness is a snow
     leopard -- Unciae, if you had to guess, her coat white as
     purest snow before it's even sullied by the earth. Her gaze
     shifts from you, focusing on a point behind you; and then,
     behind you, a faint scuffling sound, as of claws on ice.

Brighttail's eyes would widen further, if the lids and pupils
     weren't already open and dilated. White Uncia...? -- then a
     sound, a scuffling, and she whirls again -
Or tries to; on the ice, it's less of a controlled whirl then a
     slipping spin. Still, after an extra revolution or two, she
     skids herself to a stop pointing more or less in the
     intended direction.

Greeting your eyes, after a moment's concentration, is more
     darkness -- but framed in that darkness is a patch of
     concentrated blackness; a dense pitch black that outlines a
     feline form. Emerald green eyes blink twice at the whirling
     Unciae, then raise to focus on the pure white form to the
     other side of her. The two presences, black and white, raise
     their piercing gazes to each other -- lock, hold, and then,
     after a small eternity, mutually disengage. A voice, now,
     soft and piercing like winter's wind, sounds from behind
     you. "I have indeed found good hunting today."

Brighttail has never before felt very small and tempted to sneak
     quietly out of the way when her elders weren't looking, even
     as a tiny kit. She feels it now, in full measure - or as
     full as an Unciae can, which is admittedly rather less than
     most. The result of it is that she very gently nudges
     herself back, toward the pure white leopard, a presence
     familiar to her - half expecting to feel a paw in her back
     sending her skidding toward the black again.

A gentle cough from behind, along with a mental nudge, keeps you
     from travelling too far. The black form flows forward,
     exactly twice the distance you moved toward the white --
     keeping you precisely in between the two forms. A voice,
     equally soft, and sibilant, emerges from within that patch
     of darkness. "Who, then, shall play the part of the prey
     this day?" The words do not echo in the air, but instead
     form themselves from thought itself; like and unlike the
     mind-speech of the Verdimm. The voice seems to be directed
     at Brighttail, but it is the white that answers, "If it is
     day, it is likely more my domain than yours, and therefore
     my hunt."

Brighttail gathers herself carefully, sinking her claws into the
     ice again, and struggles to stand. The dark panther, and the
     white leopard... White Uncia's tales are familiar, the name
     that of an old friend, or a mother; but the dark one - the
     father of the cousins that were lost, that were cast into
     the lowlands? She would like the talk of hunting better if
     any but the three of them were there... still, hunter or
     prey or neither, better to be on her paws than on the floor.
     She begins to gather a thought, as if to mindspeak, but ...
     that bespeaking is the mewling of kittens beside the
     thought-voices of these two. (Nagging at the back of her
     mind is quite another idea - if this is day, how far into
     the cave must she be?)

A sense of amusement washes over you, from both black and white.
     An uncomfortable thought strikes you, that these two might
     be able to know your thoughts... and beyond. White Uncia
     speaks again. "We speak of cycles of days and nights that
     differ from yours, daughter." The dark one, eyes laughing,
     adds, "You are both hunter and prey, child." His gaze
     narrows, turns considering; a certain tenseness becomes
     apparent, as the white flares brighter.

Hunter... not for food; do they mean her search for the Tenebrae?
     Brighttail glances at the dark one again. They might, they
     might indeed. Or something else, something as far beyond her
     as the days and nights they speak of. Her ears twitch
     faintly, one rotating toward the dark one, one toward White
     Uncia, even as her fur begins to spike in response to the
     tension. She stares up at the dark one, mostly in
     fascination - though with as much challenge as, say, a just-
     walking kitten might muster, and about as much balance in
     her stance. Hunter for what, prey of whom, days and nights
     that are different... so very many things to find out!

A blend of soft laughter and tingling purr flows from the form of
     the dark one, his eyes glinting amusedly. "I am not so lost
     as you may have heard," he says wryly. "But what would you
     do once you found Me?" he asks. As the last words form, he
     moves with the grace of and substance of shadow, stepping
     forward and to one side of you, his movements sure and
     confident on the ice. With a great stretching stride, White
     Uncia flows forward as well, matching his pace; moving
     around to your other side. She stays silent, for the moment.

Brighttail considers the question, the ear assigned to the Dark
     One twitching as it follows his movements. To find out what
     had become of the Tenebrae... wasn't that why they had left?
     Or was it to find another place to live, now that the
     winters were so long and cold that little game survived? Or
     simply to find out what was there? She truly couldn't
     remember which now, or whether there was really any
     difference. And why should there be any difference? -- No.
     She hadn't thought of Him, but of the Tenebrae. Did that
     mean there -was- no difference, there at least?
Brighttail gives a sudden, lopsided sideways pounce, claws
     velveted, at the paw of the Dark One. If there was no
     difference, if He was what she'd been looking for - well,
     let her find it! And if not - if she was to be a kitten
     here, why not act the part?

The form of the dark one dips his head slowly... then, as you
     pounce, he raises his paw swiftly; one eye lidding. The
     sudden emergence of sha'crin, raw and untamed, is so thick
     one might almost taste it; your movements are slowed, and
     not so much halted as postponed. He cocks his head, bringing
     his one wide-open eye to bear on you. "Spirited," he
     comments, the amusement never fading. From your other side,
     White Uncia's voice rises. "Bold." she offers. Again, the
     dark one speaks. "Rash," he muses, the word almost as much a
     question as a comment. White Uncia responds, quiet and
     cchill, "Not for you to decide." Her words seem aimed more
     at another, unspoken query, than the last heard comment from
     him, but serves well as a response to either. The dark one
     pads on, unperturbed, circling you, White Uncia shadowwing
     his movements;when the two have switched positions from what
     they were at initially, the dark one's eye twitches, and
     your movements complete themselves -- you pounce at only his
     memory, as he's no longer in that place.

Brighttail completes her pounce, at the ice, and slides almost
     casually off her feet again. This time she leaves herself
     there, managing the less-than-easy trick of looking as if
     she'd -meant- to do that.

The dark one stands still now, watching you; his twitching tail
     his only movement. White Uncia pads closer to you, and
     lowers herself to the icy floor, a picture of fluid grace.
     "How far," the voice from the dark one directs itself at
     Brighttail, "will you go?"

Brighttail considers the question, forming her answer in
     mindspeech simply for the sake of making sure she remembers
     how. ~As far as I have to, or as far as I can.~ The 'of
     course' hardly seems necessary, with White Uncia herself
     watching; how else for one of Her children to be?

The dark form chuckles again. "How else, indeed?" his voice
     returns. "Let us find out, then, how far along my path you
     are able to walk with me." He turns, then, smoothly on the
     ice, and his form begins to withdraw into the darkness.
     White Uncia turns her head to focus her eyes on you, one ear
     flicking towards the dark one's retreating figure
     expressively. Her gaze questions without words; measuring,
     and at the same time reassuring.

Brighttail turns her head toward White Uncia for a moment, tail
     flicking cheerfully as she struggles to stand. Once she has
     her feet, and a good grip with her claws - then she looks
     back, to the Dark One, and follows as well as she can, claws
     digging into the ice for purchase. Not entirely certain that
     this is the best decision... but fairly sure that it will at
     least be the most interesting.

White Uncia rises as you do, and brushes against you, her fur
     ruffling your own, the contact giving a shock of pure icy
     brightness before your movement takes you away from her. She
     remains standing in place, watching you as you move away.
      she whispers just for you,  The Dark One does not turn, but moves inexorably
     onward, darkness closing about him and obscuring his path,
     reminding you that you cannot linger if you wish to follow.

Brighttail returns, the thought as focused as she can make it,
     ~Of course not.~ She does her best to quicken her pace,
     without slipping on the ice - neither letting the darkness
     cloak the Dark One entirely, nor letting the pure white
     leopard's image fade completely from her mind.

White Uncia's laughter fades behind you, as does the comforting
     cold; the farther you follow the Dark One along his
     meandering and shadowy path, the more the air warms. Scent
     and sound return, slowly; the outlines of the jungle grow
     more distinct around you. The Dark One pads soundlessly
     along before you, drawing further and further ahead, until
     he can no longer be seen, only felt -- you know his steps
     still guide you, and then, the rocky walls of the mountain
     are no longer surrouding you, but the lush vegetation and
     undergrowth of the jungle. The outlines of your surroundings
     grow more distinct, more real; dawn is arriving, and you are
     alone.