The frigid breeze felt like pin pricks against the skin and it made the newborn shiver and quake. He could not register the sensation as pain, but knew in such a primitive way that it was. This new world was all-consuming and there was too much sensation… From his first breath, a bitter cold that dried his tongue, to his first squeal… everything was a new and frightening sensation.

He longed for the warmth of the womb and the feel of his sister against his chest. He wanted to return to the comfort from which he’d come and never again feel this strange earth beneath his belly. It was cold, too cold for him to properly adjust to, and loud! There was so much sound here! When the little King tried to flutter his lashes against the blinding of so much white -but what is white to a newborn child?- he could not seem to hold them open long enough to truly see.

When at last the warmth of his sister came to lay beside him, he struggled to press himself into her side. He wanted, no needed, to be near her. A sharp and perhaps shaky cry shuddered from his lips once more and this time he was taken by the sound of it. It startled him! The pitch of his own voice! But what was it? Where had it come from within? The little King could not decipher such an anomaly and instead nestled only closer to the filly with which he’d shared a womb. He did not understand the concept of their sibling bond, but only that a tie between them existed.

But then! Low and behold another scent more familiar to him than any other nosed closer. This bond was unbreakable –he could feel it in his chest- a certain longing to be near the soft touches of his mother. However, close was not close enough and when she had left him, a terrible ache began in his heart and a terrified tremor shook his bones. What was this feeling?

For a moment the little King stopped in his searching, waiting for his mother’s return, and when she came back he pressed his face against her own. Warmth. There was warmth there and he wanted it so badly, but the caretaker had other ideas and instead rolled him through the cold snow toward a light that wavered against all the white hills. It was then that his skin began to heed the heat of the flames and his trembling became less severe, even if the wind still kissed his backside. How long would this comfort last?

As he lay, working hard to fight the fatigue and the weariness that plagued him, another loud sound –or rather a series of them- unsettled his descent into sleep. The pitches were low at first and then high, hovering above he and his sister like screeching crows. The little King fought against the cold ground in order to again find himself at his sister’s side, but was stopped in these futile attempts by a flurry of movement that caused even the ground itself to shake. When finally he was able to look upon the white world without squinting, Uriel found that the winds had stopped.

He turned his small head to survey all that surrounded him -though certainly not understanding it- and found another set of eyes peering back at him. A monster?! A terrifying beast so much larger than he! His mother! Where was his mother? Her scent was not near! Who would protect he and his sister from this creature?! The white world was too strange for the little King to understand and he wasn’t sure he even liked it here yet. More than anything he wanted to take his sister back to where they’d come from… They were not meant for this place.