//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 — Reine 
// Story: Pom's Chapter — A Novelization of a Story That Doesn't Yet Exist 
// by AIPomgeon 
//------------------------------//

This holding cell is by far the most comfortable place Pom has ever spent time in, willing or otherwise. The night air of the tundra chilled her to the bone, but the guards' post is warmed by a roaring fire. Pom lies on plush carpet, surrounded by pillows, as Woof snores beside her.
"Alright lamb, meal time." the guard attending the cell says as he enters. "The warden wasn't sure what sheep can eat so you'd best hope this will do." A tiny biped pushes a cart stacked with fresh fruit, vegetables, and at least ten kinds of dessert. The biped hands Pom a cup of hot cocoa before leaving her with the whole cart.
"All this is for me?" Pom asks in awe.
"Drink up before it all goes cold. You'll be questioned in the morning." the guard says sternly as he shuts the door behind him. The lock clicks, and he disappears from view.
Pom gulps down some of the cocoa, and nibbles on one of the many desserts. If this is how the deerfolk treat their prisoners she may have to commit a crime on purpose. It's not long before she falls asleep, a well-deserved rest after a full day's travel. She might've slept for twelve hours uninterupted. At the first sign of dawn, however, she's awoken by a familiar whine.
"Oy, I hear ye lad," Pom grumbles, rising to let him out—
Oh. Right.
Pom knocks against the metal bars and shouts out, "excuse me, could a guard come here?"
One of the guards runs over, rolling his eyes. "What is it, lamb?"
"My pup has to go."
"Go where?"
Pom stares at him blankly.
The guard's brow furrows in confusion for a moment before he sighs. "Alright," he says, opening the cell door, "I'll have someone take him." He whistles, and one of those bipeds rushes into the room. Woof, at no prompting, squeezes through the bars before the guard has a chance to open them.
"Wait, I need tae go with 'im, he can be a bit much tae handle."
"Nonsense," the guard assures, "the sprites are fully capable of handling a little floofball like that."
"ᚫᛚᚷᚢᛞ" the sprite agrees.
"Um... okay, I guess I'll trust ye." relents Pom. The pup looks up with his big, oval eyes and smiles as the sprite leads him away.
She wonders what her other dogs are up to unsupervised right now.
As Woof, the guard and the sprite leave a larger deer than the ones from before enters the room, accompanied by his own sprite with a notepad. "I was going to let you sleep longer but since you're awake we may as well get this over with."
"Aye, please. This place is great but I really need tae get out of here."
Pen in mouth the guard jots something down on the sprite's pad. "'Great' is a strange word, but alright. I'm going to need your name and a summary of how you entered Reine without passing through the gates."
"My name is Pom, from Baaah, and I was teleported here."
"What do you mean, teleported?" The deer leans in. "Can sheep do that?"
"Course not. Or, I mean I did, but... let me explain."



Pom quickly recaps the events of the past two days: the town hall, setting out, the first predator encounter. She embellishes a bit about the supposedly sacred Order of the Horn, just saying she "ran into a unicorn." It might not be good to tell others about a secret institution like that. The deer's face is stony throughout,
"And that's everything." Pom finishes.
"So what you're saying is you just ended up here, and there's a pack of floofballs running around the city, one of which is," the deer points to one line in particular on the notepad, "'about the size of a buffalo.'"
"Well, I guess I haven't SEEN a buffalo, but I'm told they're about that."
The deer immediately opens the bars to the cell. "It seems in our mutual interest to get you out of here before one of those dogs scares someone. You're free to go find them."
"Thank ye so much!" Pom say, hugging him for a moment.
"I'm happily married." the deer establishes.
"I—what? Never mind."



Pom hurries out of the guardpost to collect Woof. She's able to find the guard from earlier, as well as the sprite from earlier, but not Woof.
"Where's my pup?" Pom asks.
The two look at each other nervously. Nothing is said between them.
"Where's. My pup?" she asks again.
"Lamb, we, eh, he did, I mean," the guard stammers.
"ᛋᚩᚱᛟᛋᚩᚱᛟᛋᚩᚱᛟᛋᚩᚱᛟ" the sprite says, hands clasped.
"Where's my pup."
"Look we didn't think he could run that fast, okay?"
"ᛋᚩᚱᛟᛋᚩᚱᛟᛋᚩᚱᛟ"
Pom's eyes narrow. "Where's. My. Puppy."
"He ran off! It's no big deal, we'll find him."
Pom bolts away without giving them an extra thought, jingling the bell around her neck. "Woof?! Ruff! Puff? Puppies?" she calls out, looking for any of the pups.
"I'm so fired."
"ᛋᚩᚱᛟ"



Pom runs from one town to the other as quickly as she can, at multiple points nearly slipping on the slick ground. She manages to catch sight of one of them zipping around a tree; she tries to turn and chase after it, only to finally lose footing and slide uncontrollably into an outdoor table, knocking it and everything atop it over.
"Can we have one tender moment without a sheep ruining everything?" a doe seated at the table exclaims, running off in a huff.
"Sorry, 'ave you seen any puppies?" Pom asks the buck at the other end of the table, who merely glares before following his date.
Dusting herself off Pom continues in the direction she saw the dog go. To her delight, all four pups are gathered, playing with each other. "Lads!" she beams.
At the sight of their caretaker they scatter, as if this were a game. Pom chases after them best she can, but the streets are already beginning to crowd with commuters and passersby and one-by-one they're lost again. Pom does, however, manage to keep her eyes on one of the pups—Woof. There's no mistake about it; he's the runt of the litter, with short legs and a penchant for getting into trouble. He runs into an alleyway, Pom immediately on pursuit.



There's no one in the alleyway, giving Pom hope that she'll be able to catch the pup... until she hears a growl from a dumpster.
Pom turns to the dumpster, and a pair of glowing red eyes stares from within. It's not a wolf this time; though it possesses fangs and claws, it's much stockier, more rounded. It lets out a snarl and attacks.
Still sweating from the chase and on the verge of tears, Pom turns to flee but is immediately stopped from behind by the beast, grabbing and toppling her. The wind is knocked from her lungs as she's knocked flat on her back, squished between a pizza box and the monster.
"You are looking for the Key . . ." it hisses.
"Promise I'm not!" Pom lies. "Let's not do anything rash, we can talk about this!" It's only now, this close to it, that Pom notices its hide is not brown or even black, but a deep purple. It's easily six feet long and just about as wide, its muscular core pinning her down. She stares into the heart of the beast as it opens its maw. It inhales, its nostrils flaring as its eyes widen—before hissing in pain.
Woof bites down hard on its tail, maintaining his grip even as it swishes back and forth. Seizing the moment, Pom staggers it with a headbutt, and wrangles free of its grip. She pulls the pup free, but is stopped once more when it flings its tail forward, sending the pup into the street and onto the ground.
"PUP!"
Pom's sudden bark takes the predator aback, almost physically recoiling from it. Instinctively capitalizing on the moment, Pom flails her limbs in a frenzy, in a fury. Her hooves slam into the monster's eyes, blinding it and sending it thrashing about. Stumbling to her hooves Pom uses all her strength to pull open the dumpster's rusty lid, push the predator inside, slam the lid shut...
And turns to find herself face to face with a grumpy buck.
"Why are you doing back here? Dealing illicit goods? Hmm?" he yells, pulling Pom by the collar with a threatening stare.
"Ye need tae, look it's not, ye gotta—"
The buck rudely brushes past Pom, opening the dumpster, tossing a sack of trash, and leaving. The monster glares for a moment as the lid closes.
"Seems you can't trust anyone without floof. Who knows what you brought into this city." the deer scoffs before exiting the alley.



There's a long pause, as the sound of a growl builds up from within the dumpster. Pom braces herself as it reaches a fever pitch, and then the beast bursts from it.
Woof jumps straight at it, and Pom instinctively bites his tail to pull him away from the threat. He bites the predator square in the muzzle before he's pulled away from danger. The monster cries out, rubbing its face—and then Woof jumps in again. Pom pulls him away once more, he strikes once more, and is very narrowly wrangled away in time once more.
By this point the beast is infuriated, and charges head on. It looks hungry, wild, untamed. Pom takes a deep breath as she readies herself to fight not for her own life, but for that of her puppy.
She swats at it with both forelegs to no effect then, out of ideas, attempts holding it back with her hooves. The beast stands on its hind legs, reeling and grabbing at her, its only desire to tear the wool from her back with its claws. A paw swipes at her head, and with her last reserve of energy Pom leap into the air, hoping to evade its blow—but no sooner do her back hooves leave the ground when the great monster grabs her, pulling her back down with a passion.
Pom is knocked to the ground, the beast pinning her once more. It swats Woof away without issue and goes straight for the jugular.



Given the circumstances Pom had no expectation for her story to continue past this point. With perfect timing, however, Big Mama appears, grabbing the beast by the neck and throwing it into the wall. With a cry she charges the beast, kicking and clawing at it repeatedly in the stomach. The monster strikes at her, but it's already been weakened by the previous fight, and a few moments of struggling later turns into smoke.
"Huff... thank ye Mama," Pom pants. That there are predators lurking in a place as guarded as Reine ignites alarm bells within her. If they can get here, Baaah definitely isn't safe anymore.
"Mama, stay. Look after Woof, make sure the lad doesn't run off. I'll find the others, I promise." Pom tells her. Mama barks, and Pom leaves with a nod. Woof rushes after her, but Mama curbs him by stepping on his tail.
Pom runs aimlessly, asking various deer if they've seen any 'floofballs,' but either none have or none are willing to cooperate. At one point she bumps into a cow of all people; the cow had no idea either, mooing confusedly.
"Och, puppies, where ha'e ye gotten tae?" Pom mutters to herself, pressing onward.
Finally, she finds them. Ruff, Tuft and Puff are, as if going out of their way to be as difficult to rescue as possible, playing in the middle of a frozen lake.
"Puppies!" Pom cries. "Return to the warmth! The ice will not hold ye and you know it!"
They either don't understand or don't care, frolicking about on the thin layer of frost. Worrying she might be too late, Pom scurries onto the ice herself. A pink-furred doe shouts from afar, "Hey! That ice isn't stable!" but Pom proceeds anyway singlemindedly.
She slides to the center of the lake, attracting the attention of the three juvenile dogs. "Bad puppies! I've been chasing ye for hours! Get off the ice now! Go!"
They all leave, heads hung, and Pom feels relief for a moment. And then the ice begins cracking beneath her hooves.
"What th-?"
Fearing the ice may not be able to bear her weight, Pom starts moving away from the center... but the cracking persists, spreading rapidly. She breaks into a gallop. The icy surface groans as it splits further and further beneath her. Perfectly clear that she isn't going to make it, Pom has just enough time to think, At least the pups are safe...
The lake snaps like a dragon's jaws. Pom plunges into the frigid water below, feeling her blood turn to ice. She struggles but for a moment before passing out from shock, her last sense being the barking and howling of her dogs from the edge of the lake.



Pom awakens in a makeshift tent, covered in a pile of heated blankets and attended to by a bearded sprite. Recognizing she's awake it quickly leaves to grab even more blankets.
"You must be awake," a voice says from outside the tent. "It was extremely brave of you to risk yourself to save your companions."
"Are ye the one who saved me?" Pom asks.
"Only in part." A buck with huge antlers and many braids enters the tent, a blanket around himself as well. Big Papa pokes his head into the doorway before being told by the buck, "you won't fit in here Papa, she'll be out in a bit."
"Ye know Big Papa?"
The buck smiles. "We met once during a trade dispute with Baaah. It's hard to forget something like him, and he seems to remember me as well. We ran into each other today and were 'catching up' when he suddenly ran in your direction. He and I dived right in to save you. You're fortunate to have a companion like him; someone with as little floof as you could've died from the cold."
"You're—are ye the Jarl?" says Pom.
"Jarl Stronghoof Hoofstrong, pleased to meet you."
"I heard about ye from elder O'Donaghewe once."
"Is that old ram still kicking? He'll talk your ear off, what a character." Hoofstrong grins.
"Aye," Pom laughs.

Stronghoof sits. "So you must be looking for the Key? Can't think of a reason you'd come all the way out here if you aren't."
"I am. I was told I could find a clue on where tae look if I came here."
"You came to the right place, this is a city rich with historical knowledge. You could head straight to the museum at the north edge of town—"
"Oh, thank ye." Pom sighs with relief.
"—but I know my daughter is already planning to follow whatever trail can be found from there. If you want to follow a different lead, I know of one. A group of archeologists uncovered a petrified tree in the south of the city.  They believe it could've been the site of an ancient ritual."

Pom ponders her options as she's smothered with more blankets from the sprite. After warming up enough she decides to head to the museum first. A crowd awkwardly stands outside it, and Pom wonders what transpired to attract them, since they don't seem interested in the museum itself.



"Get OUT!" a fluffy doe with blue antlers screams at Pom the moment one of the large museum doors creak open. A handful of sprites look her over head to hoof, doing their best to cheer her up and treat her wounds.
"Sorry, I'll just be—"
"GET OOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTTTT!" An overwhelming burst of cold wind emanates from within the museum, pushing Pom back and slamming the door in her face. Taken off-balance she trips and tumbles down the long flight of stairs in front of everyone. The dogs rush after her, Papa cushioning the blow before she hits the bottom.
"Good boy," says Pom.

Guess she'll look at the tree.