There was a skitter of sharp claws, a squeak and then a woosh as Armando slid off the outcropping. He hit the ground with a solid thud that echoed down the gully. The little panda sat there a moment to rub at his smarting backside. He'd misjudged how steep the outcropping had been. Had things gone smoothly he'd have carefully slid to the edge and then lowered himself down. There still would have been a hefty thud when he hit the ground but at least he would have been able to control his descent. His paws, then, would be tingling and not his rump which had much less experience with his weight.

All he'd wanted to do was get out of the cave he'd been in. There was something creepy about it that just didn't sit well with him. When the weirdest little mouse he'd ever seen skittered past him glowing like some never-seen-the-sun fungus he'd known it was time to get out. So Armando had taken the nearest tunnel and booked it to the surface. And then promptly slid down the outcropping and busted his butt.

After dusting off his rump Armando felt around in the dark for his hat. If it had fallen off just a few feet further from the rock it would have stood out like a sore thumb thanks too the too-bright moon. His claws found it in the dark. Like his rump, he dusted it off. Unlike his rump, he then put it on his head. Whew, okay. Crisis averted. Now where to next...

Artisan was barely in the area for the span of ten minutes before he'd decided he did not like rocky places. The ledges made for too dangerous a race track, the ice formed in treacherous slip-and-slides, and typically other wolves stayed away which meant he couldn't even make a solid new friend. Worse yet, even the blue glowy fireflies were rare to find among the rocks and Art had quickly decided he loved the fireflies. They reminded him of his siblings whom he missed desperately, all bright and shiny and excitable. He was eager to leave and never look back, but then a faint thwack of an ass caught his ear and he'd forgotten the hatred of the place instantly. There was a new wolf to meet, befriend, and adorn his wrist here - Artisan would find them. The hatred of the rocks returned immediately as he stealthily climbed the ledge toward the distinctive sound of ass-on-rock. He'd preloaded a dazzling grin and poked his head over the outcropping to say hello, but the greeting died as fast as his smile did. "YOU." He accused, lifting a bracelet wrapped paw and jabbing it toward the raccoon furiously. "You stupid sonofabitch raccoon where are my BEADS?" The sound of his voice rolled over the rocks  - echoing his very impressive anger if he did say so himself - and then morphed into something new. It sounded almost like a growl, but the very sound grasped at his stomach and brought his fur to stiffen. Artisan had barely noticed that the fireflies had returned, floating above them tauntingly and glowing as vibrant as he'd ever seen. "Talk" "Listen" Think

Armando was mincing along minding his own business when a face he'd hoped to never see again appeared around the rocks. Naturally he froze. The gears in his head continued to work as he tried to do the math on the situation. Was the hat on his head? Yes, yes it was. What were the odds the dog had seen other red pandas since the party? Low. Really low. Was he about to get chased? Yes, yes he was. Shit. He grinned broadly at Artisan and cleared his throat.  "You see, I can explai-" psych, he was off like a shot in the opposite direction as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. He was so close to home and yet so far away! There had to be a crevice or something big enough to wedge himself in. He'd stay there all night if he had to- Armando skittered to a halt as a guttural noise overtook the wolf's fading echo. The reverb blasted him back several steps and seemed to suck the air out of his lungs.

He turned and in his haste ran in place for a split second as he tried to get away from whatever the hell that was roaring down there. Armando had only gone a few steps when the sound had hit him but he regretted every single one. If he'd been scared of Artisan he was terrified of whatever creature could produce that sort of noise. He'd felt it in his chest as though the beast had shaken his bones. Yeah no. He'd rather take his chances with the angry mongrel.

Was that movement he heard? The sound of heavy claws clinking on stone as a beast approached? Armando was too freaked out to look. He was running as fast as he could, but, let's face it, it was never going to be enough. Thankfully his mind was moving faster. To Artisan, whom he was approaching quickly, he yelled, "I know a way out, I know a way out!" A lie. "Take me with you and I'll lead you out!"

Artisan continued to scramble up the cliff edge, both driven by raw raccoon-biting fury as well as the sinking fear of what it was behind him in the depths of the chasm. He managed an elbow on the ledge, heaving himself up just as Armando took off running. The stupid little critter was much more agile then he was in this terrain, he had to test a few rocks before leaping to make sure they would bare wolf-weight and not only tiny asshole weight.

Artisan couldn't be one-hundred-percent sure whether he was chasing Armando, or following him in desperation to get away from whatever slumbering giant they'd seemingly pissed off. He slid to an unsteady stop as a cluster of fireflies moved directly into his face - Artisan would not be getting another mouthful of those guys - and craned his head back to practically limbo beneath them, moving slowly so that he'd not disturb their eerie glow. "I know a way out, I know a way out!" The sound caught his ear and Artisan grimaced having only a moment to contemplate whether he'd rather die then team up with his arch-nemesis. Heavy claws on stone brought his head to turn, just in time to see an eerie glow coming out from a large crevice - fast.

"OK, temporary truce, move your ass!" He called back to the thieving liar, scrabbling against the rocks to move up behind the fleeing critter once more.

"Speech"

Artisan's words were music to Armando's ears. He hauled ass over the rocks and didn't even pause to wipe at his face after bounding through a cloud of blue fireflies. Only once did he dare glance over his shoulder and when he did he wished he hadn't. What he saw scared the daylights out of him. And he couldn't even see what the damn thing was, all he saw was the otherworldly glow, the presence of whatever beast was back there. That little bit of shine scared the shit out of him because it wasn't natural. Armando didn't know much about the supernatural; he'd never really had a reason to consider it; but he'd heard the sort of ooky spooky stories you'd hear around a campfire and that was enough for him.

Throwing caution to the wind Armando sought to leap up onto Artisan's back. In his haste he was all claws, but he couldn't be bothered to be concerned about his ride's comfort when a literal hell beast was on their heels. Up ahead there was a split in the stone; two paths that looked equally narrow and steep. Having never seen either one before, Armando scrambled to decide which one was better on appearance alone. In the end it was more or less a coin toss. "Left! Left! Take the left one!" He wasn't a praying man but in that moment Armando was mentally sending pleas out to anyone who would listen. He was promising anything and everything. His soul, Artisan's soul, his future children's souls; he'd give anything to get away.

Words could not describe the conflict Artisan felt as those stubby legs leaped up and onto his back. A temporary truce was one thing, but was this really necessary? However as the roar grew louder and the glow behind them intensified, Artisan begrudgingly accepted that if the raccoon could truly find them a way out of this nightmare, it was best for the colorful pirate to carry the thing along with him to safety so he didn't die before he could give the proper directions. "Fine!" He growled, kicking up speed as the otherworldly pursuer growled back.

Artisan was beckoned left and he hesitated only a moment before veering off obediently. For a split second he considered shifting his weight and chucking the raccoon to the right while he went left, but that would leave him high and dry if there was another directional split later on and no tour guide to direct him. They were nearing the end of the rocks, Artisan could feel it. Then he could drop the raccoon, kick him in the face, and make his battle preparations for the next time they'd meet when the truce was off.

"Speech"

Armando

The stars above seem to twinkle in response. You also find 1 crystal. Maybe these are worth keeping…

Artisan

You hear a voice that feels familiar to you, calling from far in the distance. You also find 3 crystals. Maybe these are worth keeping…