You probably know that black is the most absorbent color. Thus, it can be deduced that right now, in this blistering midday heat, the animal inside the very black onyx chrysalis was NOT having a good time.

It could barely be seen, a shadow among shadows, but an elongated shape inside twisted and writhed and pounded furiously at the gemstone's thin walls. Cracks spread until at last the chrysalis gave way, depositing a terrifying PREDATOR!!! onto the Crucible's weathered rock. This! Was! Mark!

Mark took only a moment to bare his teeth furiously up at the blazing orb-lights before dashing away from their detested rays. Just wait until he gets his first drink of water! Then you'll see!!!

Mark indeed did not know what the rushing sound was. For all he knew, it was the orb-lights up above. It made sense that such a scorching heat was accompanied by an energetic sound, after all. His wander in search of a drink, though, did lead him to... a bigger drink than expected.

He rounded the next corner. Eyes bulged wide as more water than the weasel kit could ever have imagined became visible, crashing right at him in a massive muddy wall. Mark turned without hesitation, dashing for a way out of this situation. His paws found precarious footholds in the rock walls and his sheer speed took him up that path, somehow without slipping and falling. He crouched, trembling, on a small ledge, watching as the water rushed and raged down below, quickly flooding the spot where he had been. He imagined himself being tossed by those currents and dashed against the rocks and ground his teeth in helpless fury.

But it wouldn't rise further... it wouldn't reach him here... right? Mark's sojourn on the ledge stretched longer and longer, until he could feel his skin and mouth prickling with thirst that had never been sated before the flood came crashing in. He almost wanted to jump down just to get a taste of that water.

A few hours was a long time for a freshly-hatched Gembound to wait.

Mark had lost track of time on his little ledge. He just knew that the flood kept raging below, and the light kept shining. His fur felt so hot. He tried to shrink back against the little bit of shade that the wall of the canyon itself provided but it was not enough to cover him. He wanted water. Water that he could actually drink without getting himself killed.

Belatedly, he thought that he should try to move and find a new way out. He had already been waiting for who-knew-how-long. Paws scrambled for new footholds, the weasel's head turning this way and that, but his movements were sluggish and he was feeling increasingly bleary. Maybe if he just... laid down... and waited... it would be over soon.

Soon he did not feel the oppressive light on his fur anymore, shielded by onyx once more.