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“Ah – no, you’re dead too,” Nocturne sighed, watching another body drift past. “Somehow being lonely when all of those around you are dead is a bit different than being lonely when everyone else is alive. I think it’s the mind. Next thing you know I shall be talking to the trees. And they shall talk back. They’ll be ever so angry at all this water, so I suppose they’ll eat me just to be contrary. I wonder how trees digest kimeti.”

One of the foxbuns snuggled closer, and Nocturne smiled joyfully. She’d never really thought of actually owning a pet – many animals tended to avoid her, much like other kimeti after meeting her. Regardless of context, these foxbuns actually liked her in some way! It almost made her purr. Even if the world had practically ended, at least she’d finally found some friends. “Now if only you could converse.”

What could have been hours but was probably closer to minutes passed, and Nocturne was simply humming cheerfully, sometimes graduating to actual singing, her clear voice filling the air. A quick, very quiet noise caught her attention and she stopped her music, head cocked. A bright grin bloomed on her face and she swiveled her head, finally noticing two heads bobbing towards her perch. The branch bounced as Nocturne got excited, bobbling herself. Foxbuns squeaked and whimpered, crowding closer fearfully and a few climbing on her back, but Nocturne ignored them to watch the heads intently.

“Hello? Hellooooo? Are you breathing and alive? It’s very rare these days you know, so don’t be angry if you’re not,” she called out joyfully. Her shuffling towards the branch tip was accentuated with creaks and groans of protest. But she could see the heads clearer and they looked quite animated, albeit with some odd pointy horns. “I’ve been fishing up foxbuns, live ones you know since I really don’t have a use for the dead ones and they’re quite a bit cuter breathing and-” anything else she was going to say was cut off with a final CRACK! as the bough snapped, sending doe and foxbuns shrieking into the water.

Getting her head above the surface, Nocturne was a bit surprised to notice she still had a few foxbuns on her back, their sharp little claws having dug in for dear life. The others were flailing in the water, and one managed to land on her head before tumbling down her neck. She honestly wanted to gather them all to her but life was life – she couldn’t carry them all. She peered at the other two kimeti - maybe they would chauffeur the bunnies?

“Hello,” she sputtered at the other two kimeti, no longer entranced by their odd horns now that she had to tread water. “I would say ‘good day’ but it’s not really all that good, is it? Hopefully a fire doesn’t start and burn the trees down and leave us with nowhere to go.”

The grey kiokote manages to refrain from passing judgement on Mourning Fog; the look in its brown eyes is unreadable, but it is not unkind. Moving gently to the stag, the kiokote bends its head to speak nearly into Mourning Fog's ear; it must, to be heard over the roar of the water. While the fastest and most violent part of the flood is ending, the waters are now twelve to fifteen feet deep, swallowing some of the shorter cypresses. The kiokote's voice is rough and still somewhat gritty from swallowing floodwater and screaming for help, but perhaps it will be soothing: "There is nothing you can do now except help those who have survived. No time for regrets," the kiokote adds, with wisdom that might surprise the kimeti, "Move forward." Typically kiokote thing to say, of course, but still. To the others gathered on the cypress log, which bounces and judders in the water, it adds, "We must find the others. We cannot stay--"

And then, as if heard by an uncaring and unrelenting Motherfather, the grandfather cypress that has anchored the unsteady raft shudders again; if trees made noise (which they do -- sometimes the leaves rustle, or the branches sway and creak), this one now screams in agony.

The water is too much; the pressure of the odd raft against the broad trunk of the cypress is too great, and with the weight of the gathered kimeti and kiokote, the tree cannot hold. The marshy ground so far below gives way, churning into mud and silt -- the roots of the grandfather cypress tear away ...

And all of the small gathering, dry and safe until now, tumble back into the water. The kiokote, the Legendary kimeti, all of the gathering are dumped back into silt-grey, muddy water, along with the debris of the raft.

While the water no longer rages and froths, it is deep -- deeper than three kimeti standing on one another's backs.

The kiokote is the first to bob to the surface and looks around with a mingled look of irritation and desperation. "Stick together!" So many of its kind are already lost, it seems completely ridiculous to shout such a thing, but still...

Wander grunted at his response. Was that... fear he smelled from the buck? It was either that, or something equally revolting. There was nothing he disliked more than a buck that lacked confidence. Pushing himself up, he turned and stood so that he stared at the buck face to face.

"You say you're too weak," he muttered, "Or is it because you lack the will and strength to actually do anything about it? There's nothing I hate more than weak-willed kimeti."

He scoffed, and turned his attention to the rapidly rising flood, seeming to carry more than just hollow trunks and broken branches as seemingly lifeless bodies were dragged along in the current. All because they couldn't save themselves. All because they were too weak. Prepared to turn his back on them, something seemed to stop him.

Off in the distance, he spotted a pale pale doe with faint glowing marks seemed to penetrate through the bleak waters, gasping, panting, trying to keep her head above water. A doe. A GORGEOUS doe at that. Opening his mouth prepared to call out to her, he noticed two other kimeti, a buck and a doe nearby, seeming to have their sights of this doe also. The buck had sent out his eaglehound, who was in the process of herding her towards them. Oh no, no way. HE had his sights on her first. If anyone was going to be doing the rescuing and wooing, it would be him.

"Singsong! Singsong! Go-" The songbird was no where in sight. Where WAS that stupid bird when he needed him. Forget him, he would do the rescuing himself, no need for that pain in the neck. Remembering the buck with him, he gave his reply while still having his sights on the doe.

"Was gonna stay, but something came up. You best get out of here before the floods rise again. If you can't save others, at least learn to save yourself." With that, he dove into the water, leaving the buck to fend for himself.

The sweetest little filly, all dusky pink and green and delicate ribbons (the sweetest little filly with a songbird with the sweetest little feathers - oh Swampmother stop it stop it Vexed stop it you cannot seriously be thinking about killing a little child's pet right now), alive, whole, unharmed.

"I am certainly alright," now that I've found you, she thought, as she stepped closer for a comforting nuzzle, "we're all alright here. So there's nothing to worry about."

She was trying very hard not to look at the bird.

She had turned, stared at the trunk of the old tree, before it had splintered--then found herself plunged into the deep waters. Her legs began to slice through the waters in a languid kick, making her way to the surface. So intent was her focus on kicking, on the scant sunlight filtering though the silt laden water, that she didn't notice the dark blue turtle coming to her aid.

Bump Into You swam until he was under the filly's chest before helping buoy her to the surface. He sputtered as they broke the white froth caps, turning his head this way and that to find his kimeti (pets never stayed where one told them). His eyes made out the red coat of Bitter Heartbeat and he began to swim--careful to keep tempo with the little one he helped--as he pulled her towards the group.

The turtle's kimeti, Bitter Heartbeat, turned his head to keep everyone in sight. There were so many of them and he was waiting to see who needed his help. Not that anyone would be desperate enough to use his help usually but the flood had temporarily suppressed the insecurities he suffered from; doing something was far better than doing nothing in a catastrophe.

At the pale doe's shriek Skystain was in the water, swimming toward the doe. She should have realized Hunter would scare the poor doe. Her powerful legs get here there quicker then her hound, and she turn to approach from the front hoping the doe will see her and be less afraid. "Calm. Calm little one. He is just trying to help. This way, there is a place to stay that is semi dry." Skystain turns, calling over her shoulder for Hunter to come. Now it is up to the pale doe to follow or swim on. Skystain wishes to help, but fighting with someone to give that aid will do nothing but tire both out, lessening the chance of all surviving.

She looks back once, stopping to tread water and call again. "It is safer with my friend and I then out in the open water. It's your choice, though I'd recommend finding higher ground of your own if you don't come with us." Skystain turns back and continues on to Stardust and the slightly safer perch they found. As she climbs up he gives her a disapproving look. "You were supposed to bring her back." Stardust says. Skystain just shakes her head and watches Hunter pull himself up. This brings her to remember Bruised and Spotted, who'd been on her back when she dove in. She'd forgotten them while trying to reach the doe and now looks around for them. "Have you seen.." she starts to ask, but stops when she notices the two balls of fluff on Stardust's back. "Thank you." she says to him, pushing herself closer so the two mongooses can hop onto her back again.

Everything was a blur. She had been succeeding in the task of sweet talking a large fish from the mouth of an owlcat--although it could have been that her pet eaglehound's growls were an ever better reason to drop the wriggling prey. And then the rush had sounded, a swelling crescendo of very bad things. She had turned to find a stampede of horse-creatures invading the swamp and the owlcat was gone when she turned back. (Damn it.)

With narrowed eyes, she and her eaglehound had slid off... The kiokote and kimeti had largely been easy to avoid, the cheetahs a little less, and the pets all near impossible. What in the name of the Motherfather was going on?

The wall of water had come next--and truly was impossible to avoid. She had been swallowed whole, the whines of her hound cresting underneath the roar of rampaging rapids. Whatever had happened, whatever she had done, she found herself now huddled on a small log.

It was large enough that she could stand on it without fear of misstepping--slipping was another matter entirely--but she had curled her front legs beneath her instead. Her hind legs straddled the log, hooves and tail skimming the surface. On the back, Eyes Wander perched carefully surveying the waters. A bark sounded whenever another kimeti got too close.

Lull in Sunlight watched many rescue attempts, steadily moving along, a smile of amusement dancing in her eyes though she appeared quite solemn from far away. She looked up in time to see a white doe with vibrant pink hair fall into the waters and almost laughed at the clumsiness of some kimeti--but she didn't. No, laughter outright would be much too questionable. And then an orange haired kimeti and a red edged buck jumped right in after. (How silly. Though mayhaps she would follow her children--hopefully neither was stupid enough that she'd have to find out.)

Her log came up between the latter two and she gave a small smile at Doom's aggressive reproach to a foxbun. She turned her head to the buck, brows squinted--what in the world was he riding on?

"You," she called to Gloom, "How are you riding so high?" she demanded. Behind her Eyes tensed into a crouch and the coat of fur and feathers puffed in agitated suspicion.

Sparks of Color had been all alone when the floods came. She'd been in floods before but never anything this.. this.. HUGE is the only word Spark can think of. "So. Much. Water." she says to herself. "And none to drink." When the rains first came Spark sought out a hillock to stay on, sure there'd be some flooding. The bit of tall ground is washed away now and Spark has spent the time since looking for a safe place. But now, with the water taller then some trees, she wonders if there are any safe havens left. Or even anyone left. Surely she cannot be the last surviving soul. It is this thought that keeps her moving.

"HELLOOOOOO!" Spark calls, wanting, needing, to be heard. By anyone, even a rabbit responding would bring her hope. There are so many bodies in the water, lifeless all, it makes her wonder if she truly is the last. "ANYONNNEEE!" she calls again. And this is how Spark goes, swimming quietly for a time. Then yelling, trying to be heard over the rushing water. Sometimes she stops to rest, using a log or tree branch to ease her legs and catch a breath. Spark doesn't even know what direction she's going in. Doesn't care, either. She just wants to find someone. Anyone. Kimeti, Kiokote, animal. Anyone alive will do.