It began with a struggle, as all of her children must endure for their right to survive.
He had been feeling it for a while -
tight. The comforting little world in which he had slowly grown was becoming rapidly too small, pushing his neck and his head awkwardly between his limbs which folded every which way and shoved roughly against the interior of his calcium crib. Eventually it just became too much and he thrashed against the constraints, a perfect mixture of angry and afraid. He was upset that he felt cramped, but he was concerned for what that meant. All he had eve known had been comfort and space, and now he was faced with his first hurdle, his first recognition of change and the certain inevitability of some things. He could not remain this way, he simply
couldn't, so naturally, he fought.
Initially the struggle got him nowhere and he was forced to take frequent breaks, his heart rate jumping with the energy. In fact, for a while he rested and started to reconsider, started to think that perhaps this was
it. Until, a little tapping came. It was so quiet at first he wasn't sure, and blinking, he waited for either sanity or its return. It didn't disappoint, returning louder this time, more urgent, as if summoning him. Rejuvenated by this encouragement he gathered all of his might and shoved towards the sound all at once, and then things
changed.
He rolled, tumbling over himself several times before flopping, upside-down, to another stop. Except now he felt something cool against the wet of his skin. Something that fluttered and moved as if breathing. He pushed against the sensation and felt
give instead of solid complaint. So he pushed again and again, feeling the cage loosening all around him with each drive until finally.
Freedom.
The casing broke in three large pieces and unceremoniously plopped him into the world. Sand immediately introduced itself as it slathered against the right side of his face, clinging happily to the wet smear of old yolk that garnished his bay hide.
Weak from his exertion, and wholly unaccustomed to, well,
everything, his body trembled whenever he asked something of it. Meekly his head lolled around as his eyes strained to focus, aware for the first time that there was more than just shadows and light, but that there were things, and movement! Something came, something dark, and warm, and then abruptly
wet and invasive against his hide. A squeaky complaint quivered from his chest and out his nose, though he quickly realized it was actually a nice sensation. He tried to turn his head to look at this thing that was nice and warm, and in doing so topped a bit onto his side. Wobbly he tried to turn again, willing his legs to function and rise, to stretch and uncurl, but it was slow going.
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[O] My heart is a ghost town [Iskra birth]
