ChocoBean

It was late at night, and although all the other tundras were asleep next to him in the tiny flower-filled room, Chocobean was awake.

His mother had taken all the hunters out for a late night scavenge, and with his mother and father being out and about, it was almost impossible for the young brown tundra to sleep.

His bright red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness of the den as he looked around in worry. Something was wrong tonight. Something was very wrong tonight.

His thick furry black coat prickled with anxiety as he felt someone staring at him in the darkness.

In fact, he was surprised that Arpa and Flloyd weren't awake as well.

Had his mother invited someone over and he forgot?

No, if anyone had been invited over they would be in the guest quarters, which were near the entrance of the clan's territory. And if they had wandered in, then Onyx and/or Crook would escort them back.

So who was there?

Chocobean tucked his tail close to his body and licked his teeth subconsciously in his mouth.

"Hello?" he said in a harsh whisper, "Is anyone there?"

Silence.

Chocobean flattened his ears in frustration.

"I-If you need to find your way home then I can-"

A noise, like something between a hiss and a wheeze sounded from the ceiling, and a wet drip of something landed on his forehead.

Chocobean rose a claw to touch the wet plop that had landed on him, and frowned in confusion.

Saliva? How would anything be able to climb up on the ceiling to spit on him?

He blinked and turned to look up, but a loud foghorn noise cut through the clan, cutting him off from looking.

Arpa immediately shot her head up and twitched her tail excitedly.

"Food!" She tittered happily, "C'mon! Flloyd, Chocobean! Lets go!"

Chocobean turned to Arpa, looking away from the dark ceiling, and Flloyd woke up at the movement of both of them.

Flloyd smiled and began to follow Arpa out of the den, and Chocobean reluctantly followed.

As the three of them began to leave, none of them noticed the dead white eyes watching them...



Samson stared as his sister flew away, her dark red wings stark against the sickly green sky. He was the only one left. He flinched as he felt his mother's wing wrap around him gently. And looked at the ground as she began to speak.

"We sleep well tonight knowing that our Broodmother has taken our kin under her wing. We eat well for the rest of our lives knowing the sacrifices the young have made for us. And we live well for as long as we are here." Styx retrieved her wing from around her son's body, and gave him a warm, sad look.

But he couldn't meet her eyes. What would she think of him if he told her right now that he didn't want to join his siblings in fighting. That he'd rather stay with his parents, where he was safe, and could help the clan in other ways? He sighed, he would tell them later.

---

"I received the strangest vision this morning," Hanson commented, approaching Samson with a look of mild curiosity, "And I wanted to know when you plan to tell your family the truth."

The young tundra froze, and his fur stood on end. Oh, that's what this was about.

"I... Don't think I should tell them." He muttered, "I could leave a-and help in other clans."

"And hide from the truth? You'd never live with yourself."

Samson looked up with a start at his mother's advisor. It was true, hiding from the truth was cowardly. It went against everything had had been taught. His ears flattened themselves against his head in shame.

"Sorry... But I just," He looked at his paws awkwardly, "I don't want them to reject me for being different..."

Hanson gave a bark of a laugh, making Samson jump and his wings flap open in momentary fear.

"Your mother and father should teach you a thing or two about insecurities, kiddo." He paused, and then gently ran his claws across the scars on his snout, a dark look in his eyes. "It's high time that you knew something about your parents and I."

Samson's ears twitched, and he frowned. "She's... They've told me everything. I'm not sure what you mean. Unless I forgot something."

He shook his head, "You doubt yourself. You forget nowhere near as much as you think you do. This is something only we know."

He sighed, long and hard, and sat down with his head in his claws.

"Your parents and I were hurt. Very badly. It was nobody's fault but our own but... But we could still prevent others from befalling the same fate that we saw so many others fall to. We were the first to escape that place. We could be the first to end it. Your mother is terrified of you and your siblings finding this place. And being hurt. She wants you to stay more than you want you to stay."

"But why? I don't get it."

"I don't think we'll ever get it either." Hanson looked up, and tucked his wings close to his body. "If it's rejection you're worried about, then don't. She will love you no matter who you are. You're her son."

He stood, patted Samson on the shoulder once, then twice, and trotted away with a smile.

---

"Mother, Father, there's... something I'd like to tell you"

Styx looked up at her son from her low bed, and then at Cloudstormer beside her. It wasn't often that their son came to them personally, for whatever reason, he was strangely reserved towards them. Plus, it was the middle of the night.

"What is it?"

He fidgeted, tail lashing to the side once before he finally sat down with a huff.

"I... want to stay here." he said slowly, "I know you want me to fight, to go serve the Plaguebringer like Ai and Camilla but that's not what I want to do."

The mirror made a small noise, and Samson flinched. But that wasn't going to stop him from telling the truth.

"I want to stay here. With you. I feel safe with you guys, and I want to help with the clan. I'm sorry if I disappointed you but..."

There was a choking noise, and he looked up. His mother was crying, gently and quietly, but still crying. His ears flattened against his head.

"I-I'm sorry! I know that you-"

"No," She interrupted him, looking up, "I've failed you."

Styx stood, and walked over to her son, wrapping him in her wings in a tight hug.

"I've failed you as a mother. You were scared of failing me, and if I come off as a mother who wouldn't accept her son for who he is, then I've failed you. And I think I speak for both me and Cloudstormer when I say that it doesn't matter who you are or what you do. Because we'll always love you for being you."

Cloudstormer nodded, and rose to join the hug. His warm, purple fur was comforting, and Samson leaned into it. Hanson had been right, and now that he had come clean, it seemed a little silly that he had been afraid of rejection for so long. Quietly, he let a couple of fat tears streak down his face and into his father's fur.

A couple of minutes passed in silence, and Styx was the first to break the embrace, holding her son at arms length to get a good look at him.

"Now then, you said you wanted to help with the clan?"

---