First, it had been dark. Miserably so. And loud it echoed around the small shell Worm had found himself in, a loud roaring that never seemed to end. Instinct told him to push, so push he did. He scratched with pinprick claws, gnawed with baby teeth until eventually a hole broke through the barrier that kept him from the outside. Yet, the moment the crystalline barrier caved in, water splashed through the small opening he'd made.
It was cold and wet, he pushed himself as far away from the sensation as he could; it was just a few droplets, but that was all he needed to decide he hated it.
Which, only made his skin crawl when he poked his head out of the top of the chrysalis to see nothing but water. Water as far as the eye could see, his chrysalises had been bobbing out in it. A lone island in this sea of nothing but crystal clear waters.
So, he hatched the only plan someone could do in his shoes. He cried. A mournful caterwauling only echoed across the waters, all from a body so small it could fit into a palm. He yowled for something he did not know. For comfort, for saving. Yet, all that had answered was his own voice, echoing back from across the waters.
Eventually, he'd curled up at the bottom of the floating chrysalis; frightened, petrified that any moment his makeshift boat would take on water and sink. If anyone peeped inside, they'd only see a pair of big, round eyes, peering back out at them. Watching the sky fearfully, frozen, like the slightest movement would wobble the shell and capsize it; which very well may have been true.
It was a small miracle that the lagoon had been so still. Eventually, gembound and chrysalis would be washed up. His first days were spent curled up inside the chrysalis, first afloat on the lagoon, then on its shoreline. Even when it was safely on land, he refused to leave; pushing himself as far back against the back walls as he could.
There were sounds, noises, smells and Worm had no way of knowing what they were. If they were just as terrifying as his awakening into this world.
Soon, the sounds of waters rising, lapping back at the shell of his chrysalis hiding spot would spur him into movement. Over the days, the chrysalis had decayed further, falling away until there was no roof above Worm any more. Until there were more holes than walls.
He'd fled then.
Bolted into the open and ran, and ran, and ran. Until his little lungs burned, until his paws stung, until the cool air stung his throat and he couldn't keep going any longer...
...Worm heaved for breath when he came skittering to a stop, the waters were smaller here. Full of slippery creatures that never seemed to venture outside their ponds. Too exhausted to run further, but too frightened to remain still. Everything was loud, bright, new. It sent prickling sensations up his hackles, deeply uncomfortable feelings and his chest-- His chest, it hurt. It felt as if something inside of it was going to thump its way out of his ribs.
It is with great reluctance he remains stopped by the ponds. Looking thin, dehydrated and wrecked. Barely a few inches big and full of an exhaustion only an adult should know. Worm doesn't lay down, he can't make his legs do that, so instead he stands hunched awkwardly over his legs; as if trying to balance his weight carefully on them without needing to strain his muscles further.
There were all sorts of things around him, ponds, rocks, creatures in the waters and out of them. He didn't know what any of them were. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.
He threw his head back and yowled once more. For what? He didn't know. Perhaps someone or something would come to him, and tell him it would just be alright.
Maybe.