"Owl!" The young Nightopian chirped, narrowly missing the treehouse's doorway but not the shelves of books near it.
"Who dear," Owl fluttered towards the buried Nightopian under a rather large pile. "What is it young one?"
"NiGHTS!" A drop of concern already entered Owl's mind. "He/she and that jack, Reala, were fighting, and I mean fighting," the Nightopian made dramatic gestures as he/she continues, "Reala pinned NiGHTS then NiGHTS flipped Reala and then Reala grabbed NiGHTS at the last minute and – WHOOSH – Reala threw NiGHTS into the Gazing Pool! My Guardian said something about that its waters destroy Nightmarens. Something about negative energy and making them live memories or something. That's not true is it? Ohh! He/she looked hurt! He/she made this awful sound –"
"That's enough, young one. Which way did NiGHTS go?" It was more like a flood now.
"This way! This way!" The Nightopian yelled even as he tore through the doorway into the forever-twilight horizon.
Owl flew swiftly, following the Nightopians now fairly distant calls to hurry. Suddenly bursting into a clearing with a steam swaying with the hills, the dream creature surveyed the area. Many Nightopians had gathered at the bank among the rocks jetting from its sides, taking care to not be seen from the air in case Nightmarens came to collect the fallen "Kind One"; a few of the braver ones fluttered over the gently flowing waters. Some turned to him with worried faces. Fluttering down gingerly, Nightopians are not the strongest fliers, he peer to where several Nightopians directed towards. He stepped closer to the calm waters. His form was not constructed to transverse this kind of energy matter but NiGHTS . . . it would suffice. (He had grown fond of the rascal).
The stream, like most things in the world, is not completely as visitors think it would be. Though the banks were narrow, a deep, vast canyon stretched down under those misty waters. It was some-ways down before he finally spotted something promising; an orb of energy, deep down cradled in the wispy grasses that grew on the floor-bed and rocky surfaces of the canyon. Once closer, he confirmed his fears. Held within a bubble of mixed energies laid NiGHTS curled into him/herself, burns all too clearly present. He/she seemed to not be in pain, his/her face peaceful but the injuries must have been significant enough to NiGHTS to cast the protective orb to regenerate. He mused hopefully.
