Chapter Text
The woods had been beautiful when little Prowl had first wandered into them. He'd followed a a fluttering bolt-butterfly as it flew from flower to flower in his grandsire's garden, watching the complex patterns move across its wings as it traveled. He had barely noticed when the butterfly had left the well-tamed, formal floral designs of his grandcreator's yard for the petals of wild, spiky titanium that bloomed in the forest that edged their property.
It had been peaceful and non-threatening, as he continued to observe the bolt-butterfly. The crystal trees had sparkled in the sunlight, dazzling his eyes. The bubbling of the nearby energon stream had been a soothing background noise.
Yet the sun inevitably sank toward the horizon, and little Prowl noticed how much time he'd lost. And nowhere, nowhere, did he see his grandsire's house. The crystal trees that had looked so pretty before now loomed, devoid of color and sparkle. Without light, Prowl had to use his doorwing sensors to navigate, a skill he'd not yet mastered. Collisions with the hard crystal trees left him with several nasty dents.
He would not panic. Panic was insensible. He would find his way out, or--or! Prowl shook his head furiously, shoving aside thoughts of his rusting gray frame being brought back to his sobbing grandsire.
That would not happen, he told himself. His grandsire would notice he was missing, and alert the authorities, who would start a search party and find him. He had seen it on the news, where another little sparkling had disappeared, and a volunteer search party had rescued him. His grandsire had warned him then of the dangers of wandering off, and he had nodded gravely, sure that he would never do such an irresponsible thing.
He would not panic and he would not cry he insisted, as one white hand rose up to rub at a baby blue optic that was gleaming with fluid. He had just just stepped on one of the spiky titanium plants and hurt his pede. He was doing a pretty good job in the war against tears, when his optics caught sight of a bright glow in the darkness. A bright pink glow. His pede was bleeding!
Confronted with the energon dripping from his pede, all the fight went out of Prowl, and he sank to the forest floor, sobbing. He was never going to get out! He was going to die here! And even worse, he was never going to see his grandsire again! His wails went on and on into the empty night.
While his wails had tapered off into quiet, hopeless sobbing, something had snuck up on him.
"What're you cryin' about?" a voice asked.
Little white doorwings jerked up in startlement. Prowl darted to his pedes, hurt foot forgotten. He turned around.
"Who's there?" he demanded, doing his best to make his voice sound stern, like grandsire's when he was lecturing Prowl. But his voice quavered. And there was nothing all around him but darkness, no matter where he turned. He shivered.
"M'name's Jazz." the voice said. Its owner stepped out from behind a beryllium bush.
Prowl's eyes widened. It was a sparkling, like him, but Prowl had never seen a mech that glowed in the darkness. The other sparkling was surrounded by a soft warm light. And his wings! Prowl had seen many fliers, and doorwingers like himself, but had never spotted a mech with four huge wings like that, each wing the size of the mech's body.
"Didn't your creator ever tell you starin's rude?" Jazz asked, his voice was light.
"S-sorry!" Prowl stammered out. "I've just never seen a mech like you before."
"I've never seen a mech like you before either, but you don't see me gawking." Jazz said.
"You were probably staring when you were behind that bush." Prowl said peevishly.
"True enough." Jazz said amiably. "What is that on your shoulder anyway? Some kind of bark?" Jazz asked, pointing.
"Huh? That's a tire. You've never seen a tire before?" Prowl asked, incredulous.
"No." Jazz said. "Have now though."
"Where are you from?" Prowl asked. Unsaid were the words, "a barn?".
"From here." Jazz said. It seemed obvious to him. Where else would a mech live?
"Praxus Acres?" Prowl asked.
"What's that?" Jazz asked. He ran a finger down Prowl's tire, fascinated by the feel of the rubber.
Prowl twisted his torso, smacking Jazz's curious roaming hands away from him.
"Praxus Acres is the name of this community." Prowl explained.
"Ah, okay." Jazz said, not really paying attention. He'd now noticed the tiny lightbar on Prowl's back.
Prowl's doorwings jerked up in irritation. This mech was clueless and annoying.
"I don't know why I'm wasting my time talking to you. I need to find my way back home." Prowl said.
He began heading off in the direction that seemed to have less trees. Jazz followed him.
"Y'know, if you're not from the forest, well..." Jazz began.
Prowl stopped, turning around abruptly. "What?" he asked shortly.
"There's a whole heckuva lotta forest that way."
Face tight, Prowl started walking in the opposite direction.
"Much better choice! My creators said that way is where the forest ends. And never to go too far cuz there's horrible mechs out there that will do bad things to you."
"If that's where my grandsire's house is, then there are no horrible mechs there!" Prowl said.
"I'll take your word for it, Tire." Jazz said.
Prowl sputtered. "My name isn't Tire!"
"You didn't give me your name." Jazz said amiably.
"It's Prowl." Prowl said.
"Prowl." Jazz said, his small mouth sounding out the strange new word slowly.
Jazz thought about it, and then grinned. "Prowlie."
"No! Just Prowl!" Prowl argued.
The two little sparklings bantered and chatted the whole way, Prowl's doorwings slowly lowering as he became distracted from his circumstances by the conversation. Finally, the white garden gate of Prowl's grandsire's house came into view. But instead of running to it as fast as his legs would carry him, Prowl turned to the strange winged mech next to him. Jazz.
"Will you come play with me sometime?" Prowl asked.
"I don't know, Prowlie. I'm not really supposed to leave the forest. Here's as far as I can go—and really, my creators would ground me for a vorn if they saw me here." Jazz said.
Not that he was really a rule-abiding mech, but he really had gone far beyond his boundary already. Going into the home of an outsider and risking discovery was a bit much, even for him.
"Then I'll meet you here. But you have to keep me from getting lost." Prowl said, his voice serious.
"That's a deal, mech!" Jazz said, and threw his arms around the other sparkling in a hug.
"Oof." Prowl said. Jazz was squeezing him pretty tight. He patted Jazz comfortingly.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Prowl asked.
"I'll be there." Jazz said.
They looked at each other for a moment, as if searching for something more to say. Then Prowl turned around and ran for the garden gate, the moonlight glinting off his wings as he disappeared behind the fence into the garden. Jazz waved anyway, although he knew Prowl couldn't see him.