Have You Seen my Papa?

Little fearling. If found, please return to Pitch Black.

[monsterbrush]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Adopted is being retold!

[adoptedfearling-blog]

Oh wow look at that, I’m still alive. Anyway, Adopted is being retold from every perspective BUT the fearling. Fun stuff. Go read it if you liked the first one.

[adoptedfearling-blog]

TAGGED BY: @demonsgold (like a month ago, whoops)

THINGS I CURRENTLY LOVE:

ONE SONG : I Need a Hero- the one from Shrek 2 by Jennifer Saunders

TWO MOVIES : Rise of the Guardians, Mad Max: Fury Road

THREE SHOWS : Over the Garden Wall, Trollhunters, ummm... I don’t watch TV so that’s all I got.

FOUR PEOPLE : Pretty much all the actors in Mad Max: Fury Road, does that count? Guess I should give names. Josh Helman, Nicholas Hoult, Zoë Kravitz, and Tom Hardy. 

FIVE FOODS : Clif Bars, Wheat Thins, scrambled eggs, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and bagels (aka. what I’ve been living off of for the last three days)

((I know I’ve been offline for a while, sorry ‘bout that, but I still live!))

[monsterbrush]

Hoping all is well with you; not sure if you are buried under classwork. I just had a Spidey-sense moment that told me to touch base with you.

Long story short: on top of being very busy with final projects, writing, and the dreaded Advancement Review, my Visual Storytelling teacher saw fit to show us Mad Max: Fury Road during class and I’ve been obsessing over it for the last few weeks which has further sapped my already limited attention span. I think Pitch might be getting jealous. 

I am fine, if a little bit frayed at the seams. Thank you so much for your concern, and I’m so sorry to have activated your spidey-sense with my negligence! I probably should have given an explanation for my absence sooner…

[adoptedfearling-blog]

*leaves a small bag of jellybeans for the Little One, and some liquor truffles for Papa Pitch*

Pitch spends the better part of an hour trying to keep the fearling out of the liqueur truffles, even going so far as to set up an elaborate jellybean trail leading in the opposite direction of the hiding spot. It is very difficult to hide things from a shadow who follows you everywhere, but he is successful. Later, he will enjoy the treat in secret, while the fearling is preoccupied with following the jellybean trail throughout the lair. 

[frostbitfun]

happy one year anniversary @flossinspector !!! 

[adoptedfearling-blog]

demonsgold mentioned you in a photoset: Natt looking at @adoptedfearling

Natt looking at @ adoptedfearling

[adoptedfearling-blog]

YOUR MUSE AS A BOSS FIGHT

stolen from: @flossinspector

Neat, their name was coincidentally accurate to their existence. 

But let’s see how their Papa does.

Ah...

[faemoria-arch]

adoptedfearling:

The fearling hadn’t seen the lady at first, and they jumped in alarm because they weren’t supposed to be outside while their Papa was sleeping. She was a stranger. They weren’t supposed to talk to strangers either, the fearling mumbled incomprehensibly, scratching at the ground nervously with their claws. But she didn’t know that, because she was asking them questions that they didn’t really understand.

She was very colorful. They’d never seen so many colors on one lady. It was like she was wearing the colors of all the crayons in the world. She was also scary, they thought. She was looking at them like they were in trouble. Were they in trouble? They looked up at her with wide eyes, fidgeting anxiously.

“Good,” they murmured uncertainly, because they were. They were good. They were very good. They just… weren’t where they were supposed to be right now… but that didn’t mean they were—“… Bad…?” they asked with a wobbly whine. Was the colorful lady going to tell their Papa? They started to sniffle.

             𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 . The former inspiring a twitch of her brow ; The latter of her fingers , tempting to take their hold of weapon’s hilt and put an easy end to both as well as this creature’s incoherent muttering . What ever she has found gives the impression of being quite confused itself . And guileless … Childlike even . But knowing the ilk it spawns from , she can think it nothing but a cruel mockery of so precious a thing as childhood . A trick of some sort on the other hand , to prey upon lowered defenses         That fits the mold of Pitch Black quite perfectly .

             What mumblings become audible give her reason to pause in settling on even that , seemingly straight-forward , conclusion however . Since when do concepts of ‘ good ’ or ‘ bad ’ escape the gorges of the Nightmare King’s domain outside of contempt for the Guardians and their perceived inane heroics . More importantly , of what extent in value is she ever meant to attribute to their definitions as decided by any other , let alone a creature that is surely malicious in nature .                      Even if it … is sniffling .                                                           ❛              You can speak then .   ❜                 Toothiana is mostly successful in steeling herself against sympathy . ‘ Mostly ’ adding up to a moderately calmer weight to her proceeding demands , even if they do not lose any of the austerity . (   And she certainly is not going to adhere to the very faint idea in the back of her mind that she ought to comfort the pitiful thing  .   )

                       ❛   So , if you won’t tell me what you are , tell me what reason I’m meant to believe you are out here for . Did Pitch Black put you here to watch for something ?  ❜

[adoptedfearling-blog]

The fearling sat up and rubbed at their drooping face vigorously, sniveling piteously as they did. They nodded feebly because yes they could speak, dragging their hands from their eyes to look up at the strange colorful lady. Their Papa taught them to speak all the time! Was she mad at them for something? She looked mad. They shrank back from the strange colorful lady, wondering what it was that they had done wrong.

“Playing…” they told her sheepishly, sweeping their tail around themselves. Their Papa had gotten very sleepy after story time. ‘No playing outside today’ he’d said, and then he’d gone to sleep, but the fearling wanted to play in the leaf piles, and there weren’t any leaves in their Papa’s place for them to play in, so they had gone outside. But they weren’t planning to be gone for very long. They were going to go back before their Papa woke up, because he slept lots and lots sometimes.

Were these her leaves? Was that why she didn’t like them playing in them? They didn’t mean to play in her leaves. She was gonna tell their Papa that they went outside alone and that they had been playing in her leaves and he was going to put them in time out for being bad. They started to whine a little bit louder, scooting backwards on their tail.

“Don’t tell Papa.”

[songs-in-nature]

adoptedfearling:

“It, it, it!” the fearling chanted, bouncing on the narrow branch to make it bob up and down. Leaves were so lucky, they got to ride on bouncing branches all the time. Sometimes, the fearling thought it would be nice to be a leaf, but then they remembered that leaves were mean and they sometimes said mean things about their Papa, like that he wasn’t a papa, or that he was bad, but he wasn’t bad!

The fish stranger was getting closer and closer. The branch was bending a lot more now, and the fearling cast about for an escape. That other tree was pretty close, they thought. If they jumped, they could reach that one branch… they were a lot better at climbing than they were at jumping.

The fearling scooted backwards slightly, wiggling a little bit as the fish stranger came closer. They stuck their tongue out at him cheekily and leaped, catching the end of the new branch with their hands. They’d kept their tail wrapped firmly around the branch they’d sat on, but it didn’t seem to want to let go. Were they stuck? Oh dear. They hoped not. But they were! They were stuck, and they let out a screech, unable to decide which branch was safer to climb onto.

Sneaky little bugger. Rahim hesitated scooting forward further. He was taught when he was young, if the bough really bends, it’s ready to break. And he really didn’t want the air knocked out of him. Again. That was never a pleasant feeling. He moved back a pace, but kept a hand outstretched. But the Shadow was safe and out of his reach, and that just wasn’t right!

He watched it prep comically for a dramatic escape, the sass nearly palpable as it took a heroic leap. Or. What could have been a heroic leap, had his little tail not been so adamant about not releasing from it’s perch. Rahim moved quickly- maybe chuckling a tiny bit as he did, so sue him!- Making his way to a lower, thicker branch. He gripped the one above him, pulling the branch it’s tail attached to down a little closer. “Hey, c’mon let go. I got’cha, ya won’t fall.”

[adoptedfearling-blog]

The fearling couldn’t see the fish stranger but they could hear him, and they shook their head vigorously because no way were they going to let go of the tree again, they didn’t like falling. Falling was bad. Falling meant they were in trouble, and trouble was bad too. Their Papa was always keeping them out of trouble, he would say, and they thought he did a very good job of it, but their Papa wasn’t here right now and they were very much in trouble dangling between two branches with no where to go.

“Papa!” they shrieked, but he didn’t hear them, otherwise he would be there to catch them and he wasn’t. But the fish stranger was there, and oh. He was very close. Close enough to catch them. But he was ‘it’! They weren’t supposed to be caught by him while he was ‘it’. They didn’t want to fall again though...

Whining and whimpering they let go of the branch in their hands and tightened their tail’s grip, swinging down directly into the fish stranger’s face, shrieking madly as they went. 

[nxghtlight]

{ @adoptedfearling }

“…Okay, who’s idea of a joke is this?”

He screws his face up like a child, crouching down to pull his discarded shirt up and peer at the weird little creature underneath it.

What the heck was this thing. What. Where had it even come from–

“Did Pitch leave you here or somethin’? You look lost, little buddy. And not exactly the good kind of lost…?” Jack trailed off hopelessly, glancing around before going back to poking at the Fearling. The texture made him recoil, always so nervous about contact! “Like, I’m sure he means well and all, but if I was some, uh… whatever-you-are, I wouldn’t want to hang around here, my guy.”

With a weak chuckle, the Shepherd sat back on his haunches.

“’Least you’re not a giant-ass horse, I guess.”

[adoptedfearling-blog]

“Papa?” The fearling asked as the nice shirt they were hiding under was lifted up. But, oh. That’s not their Papa. That’s not their Papa at all. That was a boy. Was it the bright boy? No, no... this boy was much too cold to be the bright boy, but he was still very bright. Was he confused? 

“Papa!” the fearling exclaimed when they heard their Papa’s name. They flapped their hands at the boy’s prodding, jabbing back at him with long fingers. They were a little bit lost, yes, but they were sure if they stayed put under the nice shirt hiding place their Papa would find them eventually. He hadn’t left them! One minute they were playing, and the next their Papa was gone and they found a shirt and decided it was perfect for hiding in and then they decided to crawl under it, and now they were deciding to go find their Papa, and they were going to bring this cold bright boy with them, because he looked lost too. He must be lost, otherwise why would he be in a place that he didn’t want to be? 

They grabbed the cold boy’s hand and pulled on it futilely. “Papa,” they demanded. Their Papa would help, and this cold boy who was also a bright boy would help them find him. But they paused for a moment, confused. 

“Horse?” 

[adoptedfearling-blog]

*puts fearling into a teeny classic lolita outfit*

D8

They aren’t going to give it back.

[nxghtlight]

New side banner to celebrate Nightlight’s blog turning two years old next week~

[songs-in-nature]

adoptedfearling:

The fearling let out a long piercing shriek and slapped at the fish stranger’s face with both hands, writhing and thrashing wildly. No, no, no, no, no! Not their belly! They slipped from his head with a squeal of alarm, grabbing the nearest thing in reach, and dangled from the strange leaf water tasting thing that stuck out of the fish stranger’s forehead. They blinked at the fish stranger slowly.

“Pthhhhhbt.” They stuck their tongue out in the fish stranger’s face after a moment before beginning to haul themselves back up. But the fish stranger was awfully slippery. He wasn’t good for climbing on at all. Their hands slipped right off and they slithered right down his front and landed with a thump on the branch he stood on, barely catching themselves in time.

The fearling shook themselves off with a huff, flicking away bits of twigs and leaves that had gotten stuck on them during their rough decent through the branches before they eyed the fish stranger’s leg.

“It!” they cried suddenly, slapping his foot before scampering to the narrow end of the branch to sit among the leaves with a titter.

He broke into a peal of laughter at the sudden squeal. The foundering little creature at his mercy as long as he was perched on his face. “That’s what happens when ya- ow, ouch! I said don’t tug on that!” And he stuck his tongue out right back at the little minx.

He grasped the trunk with his claws of one hand better, securing his balance so he could catch the Fearling if he had to. Thankfully he didn’t fall any farther than where Rahim stood. The Siren barely had time to worry if he was okay or not, because the next second he was tagged all over again, the other dashing through his legs and out of his immediate reach. He stared in surprise. “Hey! How dare ya get me like that!” He dropped on all fours, carefully inching forward toward it.

[adoptedfearling-blog]

“It, it, it!” the fearling chanted, bouncing on the narrow branch to make it bob up and down. Leaves were so lucky, they got to ride on bouncing branches all the time. Sometimes, the fearling thought it would be nice to be a leaf, but then they remembered that leaves were mean and they sometimes said mean things about their Papa, like that he wasn’t a papa, or that he was bad, but he wasn’t bad!

The fish stranger was getting closer and closer. The branch was bending a lot more now, and the fearling cast about for an escape. That other tree was pretty close, they thought. If they jumped, they could reach that one branch… they were a lot better at climbing than they were at jumping.

The fearling scooted backwards slightly, wiggling a little bit as the fish stranger came closer. They stuck their tongue out at him cheekily and leaped, catching the end of the new branch with their hands. They’d kept their tail wrapped firmly around the branch they’d sat on, but it didn’t seem to want to let go. Were they stuck? Oh dear. They hoped not. But they were! They were stuck, and they let out a screech, unable to decide which branch was safer to climb onto.

[adoptedfearling-blog]

songs-in-nature:

adoptedfearling:

“Pthhhhhbt!” The fearling stuck their tongue out at the fish stranger before pulling themselves upright on the branch. He wasn’t going to get them, nope, nope, nope. Because they were up really high, and they were very good at climbing. 

They wanted to get higher though, so they started to reach for another narrow branch. Once they managed to heave themselves up, they grabbed another branch, and another, and another, until finally they found a branch too thin for even them to climb. They slipped and fell with a squeak of surprise, bouncing off of every branch they’d climbed before, landing with a thwap squarely on the fish stranger’s slippery face. They dug their claws into his head to keep from falling further, not realizing what it was they had fallen on until they looked down. 

Rahim followed him up, slowing a little as branches narrowed smaller and definitely unsafe for him. Seeing how shadows had much less weight than anything else he could think of, the little guy had an unfair advantage.

Oh, until he went for what didn’t even quite qualify as a branch. Twigs were most certainly not for climbing on! “Hey, that’s not-” And with a startled cry down the creature fell. And none too gently either. He didn’t have time to get a better grip and free a hand to catch it before the fearling plopped right onto his up turned face. They was a long pause as the bristling shadow calmed, Rahim wincing slightly at his claws scratching against his scalp. Hollow eyes stared down at him and the siren smiled. “Got’cha.” And he blew a raspberry on the stomach was still flat against his face.

The fearling let out a long piercing shriek and slapped at the fish stranger’s face with both hands, writhing and thrashing wildly. No, no, no, no, no! Not their belly! They slipped from his head with a squeal of alarm, grabbing the nearest thing in reach, and dangled from the strange leaf water tasting thing that stuck out of the fish stranger’s forehead. They blinked at the fish stranger slowly.

“Pthhhhhbt.”They stuck their tongue out in the fish stranger’s face after a moment before beginning to haul themselves back up. But the fish stranger was awfully slippery. He wasn’t good for climbing on at all. Their hands slipped right off and they slithered right down his front and landed with a thump on the branch he stood on, barely catching themselves in time.

The fearling shook themselves off with a huff, flicking away bits of twigs and leaves that had gotten stuck on them during their rough decent through the branches before they eyed the fish stranger’s leg.

“It!” they cried suddenly, slapping his foot before scampering to the narrow end of the branch to sit among the leaves with a titter.

[adoptedfearling-blog]

tsarina-lunanoff:

Tsarina Lunanoff listened to him with lifted eyebrows, surprised to learn that he knew of Emily Jane’s whereabouts.  She wondered what his relationship to her must be like… it seemed distant, not like her and Lunar.  Ahh, her Lunar.  Her darling boy.  So grown up, so wise and patient.  It was he that was the key to answering Pitch’s question, and she smiled to think of her son.  He who had never had a nightmare– he who knew no fear, save the dread of it.  He, who when everyone aboard the Moon Clipper had braced themselves for battle, had glanced up at Pitch and murmured a hopeful greeting, the only words he knew: “Toot toot?”  He had seen the fury and hate in the Nightmare King’s eyes, and had extended to him an offer of friendship in the only way he knew how. If only his parents had been so brave!  If only his parents had been so wise!  Ahh, but Nightlight had not guarded their dreams as he had their little prince.  The poison of fear had taken root in their hearts beyond any cure.  They would rather fight than see their boy corrupted. If only they had realized there was a better way.

“It depends,” she answered with a sigh and a small shrug.  "My own heart tends to be rather… relentless.  Those longings and desires for a past that will never happen seem to have a sort of unprecedented and completely inexplicable longevity.  I’ve buried them so many times, along with my regret and anger and bereavement, and yet they clamor to return– to trample down the door of my consciousness.  They only seem to remain buried when Lunar reminds me to spend the time I have left in the present.  Poor dear, he doesn’t know any differently.  Though we’ve told him of all he’s lost, he can’t really fathom it.  Too far gone are the memories for him to really think bitterly about it, or even know what it would have been like to have us there.  Unlike children on Earth who grow up twice as lonely because they can see those around them who have what they do not, Lunar simply believed he was the only child in the world– left there by parents who loved him and smiled at him from the starts.  He didn’t know that children were meant to have stories read to them while sat on a soft mother’s lap.  He didn’t know that adventures were to be had on the shoulders of one’s father or that games were to be played with a jolly boy of light whose laugh was the most perfect in the universe.  It is only I–“ Only she who remembered.  Only she who knew.  Even Nightlight, once Lunar had found him again, had no inkling of the boy he once was; the boy he was meant to be.  She alone knew who he had been before so much was lost.   Sometimes the grief was more than she could bear… but always, Lunar’s smile brought her back again. ”…Lunar is not sorry for how things happened.  He considers it a backwards blessing, I think.  Had the past not been what it was, the Guardians would never have existed.  The children would never have been protected like they are.  It’s all for the best.  When he reminds me of this, when he looks at me with that serene gaze of his, and I can truly see no animosity or pain in his eyes… then I know he is right.  It is gratitude for the present that allows me to keep those other things buried.  But I could never do it alone.  That is why,“ she gave Pitch’s shoulder a small tug of closeness, "we will not leave you to do it alone either.” The moonbeam bounced in little hops in the air, a silent laugh at the fearling’s waving.  How funny the small one was!  So easily amazed!   Drawing near, it dimmed itself to no more than the glow of a firefly, not wanting to hurt the fearling’s eyes, which had grown even larger upon seizing the balloon.  Pressing itself to the smooth surface, the beam listened to the wish.  Fascinated, and slightly disturbed, the beam heard the wish several times before pulling away, regaining a bit of its former light. {Little Fear!} the beam flashed {The Man in the Moon left this for you maybes!  This is a most strangest of wishes!  This is a wish you can grant!!!}   Inside the balloon could be heard the voice of a boy and his sister, both of whom were clearly full of Belief in the extraordinary.   “Oh, Man in the Moon, please, please can we meet a ghost?  Not a scary one, just a fun one!” the boy begged. “Yes, a nice, young one,” added the sister.  "Like the one in our comic book!“ "He doesn’t know what it is, this isn’t a video–” the brother interjected. “Oh!  Um… it’s called ‘Homer the Happy Ghost,’ and 'Casper’ too!  Please Man in the Moon!  We want a spooky friend!” Now the man in question normally would not know what to make of such a wish– his best Guardian for the job would most likely be Katherine to write a new story for them, or Jack stirring up some leaves into a ghost formation to rattle the children’s windows, but neither of those would really grant what the children were asking.  They wanted precisely what the moonbeam had found: a fearling of whom they need not be afraid. {Think you can wear a sheet?“}

Pitch’s eyes glistened with fresh tears and he rubbed at them angrily, annoyed with himself. Crying again, and his cheeks hadn’t even dried from the last time. He didn’t want to garner undeserved pity. That poor boy had been alone and neglected for so long. His parents had been cast into the stars, and his valiant guardian gave his body and soul to send Pitch plummeting down to earth, and yet, after all of the struggle they endured to keep their boy safe, Lunar had still suffered.

“I didn’t even need to touch your son to do him harm. So many sacrifices were made to keep him safe, and despite being defeated I still destroyed his childhood.” Pitch clutched at the Tsarina’s hand. “Galatea, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, forcing himself to meet her gaze. It still petrified him, how young she looked, and it was so easy to imagine her face twisted with fear and pain. He’d always known how isolated Lunar had been, but he hadn’t given it much thought, especially in the absence of the shadows that had filled his head for so long. It would have killed him to think about it. There was once a time when the notion gave him a vicious satisfaction. Now the memory of such satisfaction only brought disgust. Had anything good really come from what he’d done? He didn’t dare try to hope, even as he was tugged closer. He hadn’t felt so warm in years.

“Lunar must have inherited your kindness tenfold if he truly feels no hatred towards me, after everything I’ve done. He would have made a fine Tsar…” Pitch lamented distantly. He couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit envious of the Tsarina’s closeness with her son. From the sound of it, they saw each other often, and they even spoke with one another! Meanwhile… “Emily hates me. I’m sure she does. She has fewer memories of me as her father than I have of her as my daughter. She drifts by from time to time, but she doesn’t speak to me. She hardly even looks at me.” he sighed wearily, running a hand over his eyes. Even after all the time that had passed, he could never bear it when she gave him the silent treatment. It was easier back then, when he could dispel her displeasure with a well-timed quip, or a silly face. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d deliberately tripped himself on his own boots just to make her laugh. It had still hurt when even his best attempts did not immediately crack her sternness as a child, but it hurt so much less back then. Now, she wouldn’t even let him get close enough to see her scowl. He could fall on his face a hundred times and only earn himself a dismissive huff for his troubles, though he was tempted to try, nonetheless. He missed her smile.

“Would it be terribly hypocritical of me to admit that I yearn for the things that I destroyed?” he asked the Tsarina at last, lowering his hand from his eyes. “It’s only natural for me to ache for the ages long past to which I belong. I wasn’t supposed to keep living. I was supposed to die along with the rest of the Golden Age. I should have faded away by now at the very least, but…” he stared down at the fearling in his arms. Without him they would not survive. A spirit could come along and kill them, or they might venture into the light and be destroyed that way, or perhaps they would simply starve and disappear. They were as vulnerable as any child would be. He couldn’t abandon them.

The fearling peeled their face away from the balloon for a moment to peer at the moonbeam again. Could they wear a sheet? They thought so. A sheet was like a blanket, right? Their Papa’s bed had sheets on it, but those were much too big for the fearling to wear. It would have to be a small sheet. Their Papa wouldn’t mind if they borrowed part of his sheets, probably, since he let them play in his bed all the time! They could get a piece the next time their Papa cleaned his bed. Why did they need to wear a sheet though? They leaned back against the balloon again, listening to the nice sounds inside it. Wishes were very important, they knew, and this balloon had a lot of them since it had so much to say. 

[adoptedfearling-blog]

What does the bright boy taste like? The fearling is curious too...

@nxghtlight

[adoptedfearling-blog]

songs-in-nature:

adoptedfearling:

“No!” the fearling chittered, their tail lashing back and forth as they paused to watch the fish stranger climb. He wasn’t going to catch them, no way. They had never seen a fish climb a tree before. He climbed very fast for something that couldn’t climb. That was okay, because the fearling was the best ever at climbing things! They skittered higher, darting through the leaves and out onto a narrow branch. They wrapped their tail around it firmly and hung from it upside down, giggling because the fish stranger looked awfully funny when he was upside down.

“It! It! It!” they chanted teasingly from the twig they dangled from, causing it to bend and bob with their movements.

What would the little guy say if Rahim told him he grew up in the trees? Probably make that face he was already making, but more exaggerated. It already saw him as a fish, him living in treetops might just blow his mind.

Rahim clawed his way higher. But being a shadow meant little weight, which meant he couldn’t follow his new playmate on the same route he took. Not unless he wanted branches to snap beneath him. Still, Rahim smirked at him, batting playfully tho he knew he was out of reach. “Are ya laughing at me? Oooh, now I’m definitely gonna get ya!”

“Pthhhhhbt!” The fearling stuck their tongue out at the fish stranger before pulling themselves upright on the branch. He wasn’t going to get them, nope, nope, nope. Because they were up really high, and they were very good at climbing. 

They wanted to get higher though, so they started to reach for another narrow branch. Once they managed to heave themselves up, they grabbed another branch, and another, and another, until finally they found a branch too thin for even them to climb. They slipped and fell with a squeak of surprise, bouncing off of every branch they’d climbed before, landing with a thwap squarely on the fish stranger’s slippery face. They dug their claws into his head to keep from falling further, not realizing what it was they had fallen on until they looked down.