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Truth Unveiled calls a murky section of swamp home -- hard to get to, accessible only by a narrow trail that floods at the slightest breath of rain. Thankfully, a dry spell has settled over this corner of the swamp; as Truth is not exceptionally picky about who ventures into his little territory, other kimeti can come and go as they please.

If they can get there, that is.

At the moment, Truth is relatively certain he's alone, and only because of this fact has he allowed himself to do what he is doing. The broad-shouldered kimeti has wedged himself half into an old hollow mangrove trunk, and is attempting to force himself farther in. It's certainly big enough on the inside to fit a full grown kimeti, but he must squeeze in just the right fashion to fit his shoulders through the opening. It's an undignified position; his flanks are spattered with mud and duckweed, his back feet strain for leverage, and his tail so liberally coated in filth that its wispy, ephemeral tip is almost invisible.

The thing he is striving for has been carefully hidden well within the open, hollow trunk of the tree: a stone, weather-worn and totally smooth, polished to a shiny grey that winks pink in the evening light. Its most important feature is the hole worn through the middle. He's heard tell that others (most importantly his mother, who he has met once, long ago and in passing) find such things to be useful in allowing others to see the truth. Truth Unveiled, who is aptly named, puts secret faith in it.

But only when nobody is watching, of course.

It is exactly this type of thing that Truth was hoping wouldn't happen.

Nudge will hear a quiet groan come from within the hollow tree -- perhaps one not meant to be heard -- and after a moment the other buck pushes himself out of the hole. His coat is smudged with dirt and moss, and a long tangle of some sort of crawling vine is all snarled up in his horns; he pauses to disentangle himself from the tree and then stares imperiously over at the other buck...

And then his head tips slowly to one side. Slowly. This buck looks horrifyingly familiar. Truth Unveiled has met his mother once, but he's almost certain this other buck is his brother; he shares Wood Spider's coloring quite neatly. After a moment it becomes apparent that he's torn between asking just what the other buck thought he was doing (is he some sort of voyeur?) and asking about his mother.

That imperious stare wavers, and then Truth shakes his head; it comes back. "That's none of your business. You couldn't find anything better to watch?"

Truth maintains his stance just beside the hollowed-out tree; even if the other buck attempts to see in, he won't have much luck. His broad shoulders block any view that he might have inside the tree; all he'll see is darkness, and what might be some vegetation growing inside. Or maybe a pile of sticks -- it's hard to tell. It still looks completely uninteresting.

"There is nothing in that tree, or about what I was doing, that should interest you," Truth says; that imperious tone has managed to stick around. He tosses his head, both ears perked up -- curious, really. "If this is the most interesting thing you've seen all day, I beg you to reconsider what you're doing."

And then, out of nowhere -- Truth can barely contain himself, and he has to ask. Pale eyes go wide as he wrestles with himself over the question, and abruptly, "This sounds odd," he says; it starts out stiff. "I believe we may be related, as unfortunate as that may seem."

Truth shrugs. "There are no lesser kimeti. I am no better than anyone else -- likely just smarter." And that, as far as he's concerned, is that. His general annoyance with the other buck is rapidly approaching Dislike: his ears lay back at the other buck's tone. This is becoming a very bad day.

"I've never met a buck who was so clearly concerned with the actions of others. Are you above reproach? What would our mother think?" He pauses. "You look just like her -- the same coat pattern. I met her once. She gave me a token of her -- admiration, I suppose." And really. How he had had to lie to get her to believe him! Tokens, charms -- none of them actually worked, did they? "I keep it here to keep it safe. It's a pity you've never met her, though I shudder to think what she would think of you."

At this, Truth smiles. It seems he's hit a nerve -- without really meaning to. And all he's done is be completely, transparently honest! The pale buck tosses his head again, lashes his tail once (which succeeds in knocking some of the rapidly-drying mud off of it), and looks supremely smug. "Oh, I didn't say anything of the sort. I would never have implied you were anything like her." After enough of a pause to make Nudge worry, he adds, "And you aren't. I, however, enjoy memories, and I have nothing against her. If not for her, I wouldn't exist."

Truth looks around as if by talking about her, suddenly Wood Spider will appear; he remembers his mother making her way through the swamp, as aimless and easygoing as a foxbun or a moth. "Perhaps you've inherited nothing more than her coat. I simply asked to make sure. And your name is..?" Because he still hasn't given it.

Nudge. Of course -- perhaps the other buck wouldn't mind a nudge in the right direction after this conversation is over: a nudge right out of this territory. Truth Unveiled stares at him for a beat longer than is perhaps comfortable and then tosses his head again. "You," he says, measuring his words carefully, "can call me Truth." Truth Unveiled is his full name, but somehow he just knows Nudge would find fault with it somehow. "If we have another clutch-mate, I have never met them. Perhaps we have the pleasure of being the only two of her children in the Swamp." After a moment he blinks, and then smiles -- perhaps he goads, or perhaps it's an innocent question. "Have you met our father? I never have."

Truth tips his head. "I wouldn't know. I've met her once, and she came alone. It was when I was a colt." Spider didn't seem all that bad when he met her -- perhaps more of a free spirit, more connected to the Swamp and less grounded in reality than Truth himself -- but not bad. He has to wonder just what has colored Nudge's perceptions so, and whether his brother has any dark little secrets of his own. The thought makes him very aware of how close they stand to his little cypress tree cache, and it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to glance back at it.

Instead, he shrugs. The cicada are beginning to sing; their music ebbs and swells in volume until suddenly it seems he can hear nothing else. If Nudge has said anything at all, he's missed it -- though it seems it may not have been worth listening to. His brother is so full of vitriol!

"It seems I must find a place to sleep this evening -- this is no suitable tree. It's full of cicadas."

Unknown to either buck, a personage of some importance is watching them. With egos so large it's questionable that they even notice the little foxbun that has stopped to ponder them, grooming one arm with all of the dainty efficiency of a rat. After a moment it stops to ponder them with large blue eyes. If a foxbun could muster reproach in a stare, this one has succeeded in doing so -- there is no reason why two of her children -- her children! -- should be treating one another this way.

It is perhaps lucky that it is edging on into dusk, because the foxbun's coloring melds with the darkness. Truth Unveiled would likely mark this as the last day of his life if he'd noticed the foxbun's coat pattern.

He was, of course, the only one of his clutch to meet his mother...

Truth takes abject pleasure in how Nudge himself reacts to his own statement. The smile that Truth gives him in return is nothing short of absolutely thankful and gracious; he manages to look properly humbled by Nudge's all-too-helpful offer. "Of course. I'd be honored." The grin does not quit; Truth lashes his tail around his flanks, its tip wispy and fading out of existance. "Do lead on."