The Reborn Noktoa
Owner: Shantal

Age: 5 years, 7 months, 5 days

Born: May 9th, 2014

Adopted: 5 years, 2 weeks, 5 days ago

Adopted: November 25th, 2014

Pet Spotlight Winner
February 25th, 2015


  • Level: 3
  • Strength: 11
  • Defense: 10
  • Speed: 10
  • Health: 10
  • HP: 10/10
  • Intelligence: 0
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed

Did you know that Everwinter has over a thousand caves lined with sheet crystal and that the light reflects a different color from every wall? I'm going to be the first one to explore them all. Of course, I can't get too close or they'll become the thousand caves of pretty mush puddles.

The jollins over at Glacier Creek are always complaining about me. They say a creature with flaming wings has no place in a fragile land of ice. Who cares about those scavengers with their perfect white coats and their noses always turned up?

Wow! A shooting star! They say if you follow a shooting star to the place where it lands your wish is guaranteed to come true. The caves can wait. They'll still be there in an hour but stars die quickly on land.

It's still glowing slightly as I realign my feet to land. I spot the Kanis emerging from his den to see what all the noise is about.

"This is my star! Go back to munching your lettuce you overgrown rabbit!"

I really didn't mean to offend him but I must be the first one to speak my wish or the star's magic will go to the one that does. "I wish to fly through all one thousand Caves of Wonder!" There. Now I can make my apologies.

This won't be easy. His nose is twitching and everything. "You know, you look like one of those wind-up toys that just keeps doing the same action over and over."

Oops. Maybe I'd better just leave before he calls in the Kumos Squad. I'm not exactly on their list of favorite Subetans.

It's a shame to leave the star before it's fully cooled. The two best things in life are the warmth of a good fire and feeling the wind beneath your wings. Anyone who says otherwise clearly has acorns for brains.

The border of the uncharted lands has no fence or wall but every arctic dweller knows it all the same. I must cross that line to get to the caves. It seems my luck is always against me in the form of bad air currents or hungry tigreans but not today. Today I have magic on my side.

There's a cranky old dragarth that lives nearby who has been there longer than the village of Arctic Frost. I try to be as quiet as possible, not because I'm afraid but because the last thing I want is another of his boring lectures about not contaminating the natural wonders of the world. He could give lessons in grouchiness to Maleria.

It's just my luck that he's sunning himself on a ledge. His great golden eyes follow me lazily as I spin a few midair spirals. I can't resist taunting him just a little. Everybody knows his wings aren't what they used to be.

"Going where you're not welcome again, I see." His voice is said to rumble like an avalanche. How cool would it be to test my wings against the falling rock and snow of a mountain? I'll have to keep an eye out while I'm exploring. I stick my tongue out at him and put on an extra burst of speed, shooting toward that mysterious blue-green blur in the distance.

The caves are as wondrous as stories say. I swoop from one to the next, colors flashing by in a blur that gets harder to distinguish as time goes on. Purple, green, aqua, maroon, goldenrod, silver, and white give way to combinations rarely seen outside paint cans. Here is industrial rust, followed by apple bud pink and lawn green and even feli orange. There are colors I do not even have a name for. I try to count each cave as I go along but once I hit 253 I get bored and start to think this would be a good time to find an exit.

The colors continue to flash by and I come to realize my wish was phrased a little too well. I will be stuck here until I cover all one thousand colorful caves and there's nothing I can do about it.

I would say I'm in the six hundreds when I start to get tired. I can feel my wings getting heavier and this frightens me. I cannot even hover in a cave for more than a moment before I start to feel the drip of water sizzling on my wings. Impossible to land, but so hard to keep going. I refuse to die in this birthplace of rainbows!

I do not know the hour or even the day when the brush of fresh air caresses my cheek. One thing that never changes in these caves is the texture of the walls. They are all smooth and unbroken as marble, with solid colors. Now I can see a patch of navy speckled with stars. With a cry of relief I call up the last of my strength and plunge through the narrow opening above .

What a stroke of luck that I would emerge beside a thermal pool! Even better that the rodents here act as if they've never seen a hunter. The warm meat and glorious steam help to refresh me. By morning, I am once again flying high above the endless arctic span, ready to return to more civilized skies.

It is just as the borderline comes into sight that a large purple shape catches my eye. I was so intent on reaching the Caves of Wonder that I never realized there was such an impressive mountain range to the east. For a moment I'm torn between the lure of a new adventure and the comforting warmth of my own hearth. Then, with a stroke of my wings, I go to seek my avalanche.


Story by Pureflower
Profile by Shantal

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