Not far off, by fate or serendipity, a second chrysalis held stirring life. This one was a red labradorite: not very large (certainly smaller than the vulture's bloodstone), but shimmering with deep, rich colors. It shone like fire: reds and oranges, a touch of sparking yellow.

More interesting was the stirring inside, a dark shape that twitched and moved when that voice--muffled by stone--reached it.

The 'I am alive!' reached the creature within, and trickled into a half-conscious, just-waking mind. ME TOO! the little brain thought, after the words had coalesced into meaning. Me too! Alive! Alive, but--stuck?

There was a black flutter, visible beyond the shimmer. He fought briefly, and the thin stone cracked and then split, unceremoniously spilling the little raven fledgling out into the world. He hit the rock face-first, then righted himself with a brace of his wings. Fluid-slicked feathers ruffled, and he blinked up and around, gasping and croaking.

The far larger form of the bird of prey should have frightened him but instead he was excited. He put his thoughts into words as he half-staggered, half-fell toward Carcass, scrambling over stone and leaving a trail of wet behind him, his labradorite birthplace at once forgotten. "ME TOO! I--ALIVE!" The nuances of language were beyond him as yet, but for now he did his best to scrabble and clamber to come up alongside Carcass: to fluff up proudly by his side, unless of course the vulture tried to eat him.

Loki's squawk was indignant. Small! he thought.

Well, he was, but it seemed to him that he was very important, somehow, so he shouldn't be. Or at least shouldn't be called that.

...That being said, Carcass was a lot bigger than him. So instead of arguing the point, Loki just squawked loudly; then he tried to bounce around Carcass and give him a brief tug at a tailfeather before hopping away again. Nothing violent, just a little yank. "Loki!" he half-crowed, half-croaked, moving to bounce alongside the vulture. "...My name is Loki!" The words were carefully enunciated; and as Carcass looked around, so did the raven.

The question was, now what? So far his world tally of experienced consisted of crystals, water, and the weird rift, along with the other bird. Loki found himself briefly fascinated by the black scutes shining wetly along his own legs, and then his little curved fledgling talons. He lifted a foot and tried to compare them to Carcass's, to see if they were the same, and-

"BIG CLAWS?!" Loki squawked, amazed, staring at the far larger vulture's feet. Dang, those were cool. He was jealous.

Loki hopped quickly back and away, eyeing Carcass's beak--and then grabby talons--warily. He let out a soft croak-squawk, ruffling his wings--then got distracted, turning to eye said wings with a critical... well, eye. He squinted at Carcass, then, and looked back at his own wings for a moment. "What are these things?" he asked, carefully enunciating these new words.

There was absolutely no philosophical confusion--no wondering how the pair had come to be, or where they were, or what "life" was, or any of that. Just... a staring at their respective pairs of wings, and wondering what those were for.

Loki spread his, following the pointing wing of Carcass, trying to imitate it. Was that what these were for-? Then he flapped, and promptly fell on his face--again.

Oops.