Their intention is never to find the egg.

In fact, their intention is to find its mother, though by the time the pair reaches the scene all signs of Ampere have disappeared. Wind-washed sand lies in her wake, a nest of spirals that marks its treasure in a breath of movement, though the egg lies nearly submerged in its jittery haven.

What draws the pair is not the egg- indeed, it is some minutes and a few lines of discourse before they realize the presence of a third. It is the trees, and their promised respite from the desert heat, the glaring sun they do not remember being so hot on their last visit to this place. Or perhaps the walk had simply been shorter then, the sun unnoticed in their passion and panic and blind, running rage. Today that is absent, the frenzy of invasions, half-forgotten memories of a harsh, frantic time; replaced with calm determination and an underbelly of fear. They are not coming for haven, not exactly- they are coming for purpose, for duty, and perhaps even, for home.

So what are they to do, when as they pace beneath the desert trees they realize, eyes widening, that the patch of stone they were prepared to forlornly kick aside is in fact not only attached to something more, but not stone at all?

The girl blinks her onyx eyes. "What... is it?"

Her brother presses his nose to it. Cold, he answers. Bumpy. A pause, and then- Not rock.

Eyeroll. "Duh," she mutters back, lowering her head beside his own, nostrils pressed flush against the shell. She pulls back, sneezes- "It feels like you," and the boy peers back, gold gaze bemused.

"Not like that. Like when you were..."

Egg!

Fox's feet are better than filly, and it is not long before Natraj has confirmed their discovery with a triumphant yip. The egg sits, gleaming in the desert sand, white and coarse and so very wrong. For a minute, girl and brother sit and stare, unable to even start to fathom the reality of the situation, the presence of an egg the size of Natraj sitting unattended in the desert sand.

They wait for an hour, then an hour more. They wait until the sun starts to set, and the light in her mane to glow, and the unease of night to settle into their bones. Then they push out the egg, but are still unsure, and thirsty, and hungry, and irritable.

They sigh. What do we do? the boy asks.

"Whatever we have to," the girl replies.