Areli

Mama starts making noises, and you turn your whole head toward her to listen—hers is your most favorite voice of all, so warm and musical. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been hearing it since before you were born, but you take instinctive comfort in the sound of her talking and you nicker in contentment…until she starts moving away! Mama! you try to squeak, but the words get all jumbled up in your throat and no sound comes out. Don’t leave me behind!

Once more, long limbs flail about, and suddenly—you don’t know how—you’ve managed to gather the back two under you, leaving you kneeling awkwardly with tiny buttocks up in the air. How…how do you make these things move where you want them? The weight of your newborn wings doesn’t help either, for they flop open immediately, pitching you over and onto your side. With an indignant grunt (now that you’ve noticed Mama’s not going anywhere), you thrash your legs out again, managing to roll onto your belly. This is tricky stuff, tumbling about in all this space! You find yourself wishing for the old world you’d left not an hour ago: it may have been cramped, but at least you didn’t have all these limbs to manage.

Thin sides heave as little lungs gulp down air before you renew your efforts. You are beginning to grow tired and hungry, but the answers all seem to lie with Mama and she’s all the way over there. Inwardly, you groan. Can’t she just come back here? But Mama won’t budge; she only makes a huffing noise and turns her head towards you, as if she is looking at you. Fine. Concentrating hard, you wiggle around so that all your limbs are underneath you. Then you strain…but nothing happens. So you wiggle around some more. Long front legs shoot out, and then your back legs kind of splay sideways, and then more squirming and a mighty SHOVE…! All at once, every small hoof braces against the earth and you are miraculously upright. Shaking from the effort, you try to hold yourself up. Now if you can just get to Mama…

But you can do no more for now, and you won’t have the energy to even try if you don’t get some food in you. The thought of lifting a hoof to get to Mama makes you dizzy—even now, you feel as if the ground is tilting steeply to the side. Legs splayed wide, golden eyes seek Mama, pleading silently with her. Won’t she come back and feed you?

OOC: Because posting order is a lie? Sorry that it's out of turn; I just figured I'd have her do something so that they've all got something to look at xD