It was not too long ago when Wroth found himself waking up in this strange place. It was dark and secluded. It appeared to be a cave. His mind buzzed with confusion as he questioned his whereabouts. Places like these were not normally his first choice to rest in but with his aching muscles and an unusual pounding headache, he concluded that he must have come here at some point to rest. He just wished he understood why or what had happened to him before. As he pondered about his circumstances, his isolated situation reminded him of his current state.
Wroth was used to being alone nowadays. Despite his youth, he felt like his paws had become well traveled. There was once a point where the idea of reuniting with his family was a strong urge for him. It drove his every movement, his every thought. But with each failed attempt, with each new face that made him feel utterly alone, with each new environment, Wroth felt it was best to temper his expectations. That event. That fateful day. His family must have perished right alongside him. If he was turned to stone, who to say that they didn’t either? And even if they hadn’t, he had to remember one fact.
None of them would even remember me.
That was the one downside to his metamorphosis. As much as there were some parts of him that took pride in his appearance, he did lose a part of him that would always remain with his family. Vivid memories of a purple canine with orange stripes running along his back, legs, and some parts of his face return to him. His current galaxy mane flash back to a snowy white and draconic wings transform themselves into purple and orange butterfly wings. His strong, crystalized blue horns all but disappear into two simple white horns decorating his head. And his vibrant multicolored eyes all but disappear into two simple black eyes. The most important detail was his size. He was still a growing pup smiling brightly with a curious gaze and wagging tail. Shadowy silhouettes of his family appeared behind him. That included his father, who was still very much alive and well in his mind despite his mind screaming at him that wasn’t reality anymore.
Eyes started to well up at the thought. That was Wroth. That was who he once was. Not…whoever this was. Sometimes, he questioned how his family would react. Would his siblings accept him or would they stare at him like he was a complete stranger? Perhaps even disgust? Did his father, Galzroth, ever look at him with a mix of confusion and disappointment that he didn’t take after his mother more now? Assuming his spirit even still traveled with him. And the hardest one. If his mother, Wisteria, saw him now, would she feel a sense of sorrow and betrayal at his looks? He still retained some aspects of her. Her cosmic hues that he admired so much were now reflected with his vivid wing patterns, once white mane and once orange stripes. The patterns of a butterfly were now the markings that decorate his transparent membrane. Even parts of her purplish hue, while much, much lighter now, still were present especially with his feathery leg tufts, which he also got from her. But it was clear to anyone that looked at him that he now took more and more after his father. A part of him questioned if his desire to be a mix of both of his parents was truly answered or was there another hidden motive that his stony prison recognized and decided to play a cruel joke on him?
He shook his head, wiping any of the tears from his face. It showed him that despite his views now, there would always be a part of him that longed to be back with his family. But he still had to move forward. He still had to find a new home.
A new family.
For a brief second, that thought lingered dangerously in his mind, but he shut it down as fast as it appeared. He couldn’t. There was a reason he still carried the Valor name despite everything. That was the last remnant he could accept about who he once was. Trying to find a new family, even one that accepted and adopted him in, felt wrong. So much of his memories already felt like they were fading with certain events and orders clashing with him occasionally. Did he remember that right? Did that happen? And just how many memories was he not thinking about? His memory loss was still a mystery to him, but his best guesses were that it was either a side effect from when he broke free from his stone prison and/or the different places he traveled to. Some of them were more magical in nature than others. Perhaps his last name was his last safeguard not to completely forget his family entirely, but sometimes, he wondered, if he did spot them, would he even recognize them? Had he already seen them and just didn’t know it was them? The thought terrified him. They had to be much different now anyway if they were still around.
Letting out a low snort, Wroth allowed himself to focus once more on the situation at hand. Anything to get his mind off the darker anxieties that were forming about his past. He needed to understand what was going on especially with how his body continued to ache and his headache seem to have exacerbated during his thinking session. He was grateful for the darkness for he was certain that the light would have made things much worse. With dilated eyes, it aided him in seeing better in the darkness. From what he could tell, he seemed to be surrounded by some minerals and gems. None of them he could truly identify, but there was some part of him that weirdly related to them in an almost nostalgic and begrudging way. After all, parts of him were now rock so he supposed they were kin to him now. As beautiful as they were, however, the uneasiness of remaining in a dark place without knowing who or what could be lurking here was starting to unnerve him. Despite his size, not everyone or everything was going to care about that.
And that was the excuse he rolled with, but deep down, he knew it was a bit more. This cave. There was a strange warmth to it. Not by any means of its own. In fact, the cave felt much cooler than presumably the outside. However, it reminded him of small remnants of his past. His family had a fondness for caves. He once did too, but now, all he could think about was escaping. Places like these could never be home. Ever. It was too much to bear.
He winced and groaned as he forced himself to his paws. He wanted nothing more than to just sit there and rest. Perhaps, even give up. Perhaps to entrap himself with delusions again. But soon, he was on his paws once more and with each slow step, started to navigate his way through this dark tunnel. And soon, his efforts were rewarded as he started to hear the faint sound of something. It sounded like scraping and things being shuffled about. Was someone here? Or was it more of a something? Whatever it was, it would require him to come out of his darkness and into the light.
With eyes wincing at the brightness of the sun, especially with his headache seemingly getting worse on cue, it took a moment for him to adjust, but once he did, he looked at his surroundings. Thankfully, he didn’t have to look far for the source. In a washout somewhere farther down from where he was, he could see a figure in deep focus. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips. Good. It was just a wolf. But even so, he still couldn’t let his guard go fully down. He wasn’t sure how this canine would react with his presence especially with them so deep in focus. As he stared at her features, he took note of some things. For one, her draconic wings was the first thing that caught his attention. They appear to be shimmering in the light almost like they were gaining energy from the sun. It was strange how little he had seen canines with wings like that and there was an undeniable inner happiness that fluttered in his heart that he wasn’t the only one. Additional things he made note of were her pink, gray, and white colors, the vivid rainbow mane, and the admittedly adorable large red bow that rested on her tail. The rest of her, he couldn’t see.
After a moment of debating, he decided he would take his chances. The more he looked around this place, the more he found himself becoming utterly confused. This didn’t look at all like whatever he was previously. He wasn’t even sure when he had arrived in the mountains but something told him that there weren't any mountains where he was if he was even remembering right. As he walked slowly but hopefully loud enough to alert her to his presence early, his stance was a mix of friendliness but caution. He had no desire to become fully guarded. After all, he wasn’t looking for a fight and didn’t want to resort to that. All he wanted was answers and potentially, if this wolf was friendly enough, company. From what he could tell, she looked friendly enough, but again, with colors and accessories like those, it was hard not to look at her as kind hearted and soft. But if he was wrong, it was enough that if he needed to, he could react if this large canine that looked to be similar in size to him decided to turn on him. But as he continued to get closer to her in view, his movements started to slow drastically more than before. His heartbeat seemed to quicken as the wolf started to form a memory of a much younger version of someone he held dear.
"Sage?"
He echoed his thoughts aloud. If the wolf wasn’t alerted by his previous methods, she would be now. He was surprised by his own words and how his voice seemed to crack and choke with excitement and desperation. And most importantly, he was taken aback by how his eyes started to well up with each passing, agonizing second. There was no way. It couldn’t be. He should stop deluding himself, it was just some stranger. But as memories of a similar pastel wolf flooded his mind, all he could do was freeze a few steps before her as his eyes desperately watched her every move searching for any confirmation that he wasn’t wrong. Oh please, don’t let him be wrong.