Escape. Escape.

It's time. It's time.

Breathing. Breathing.

A long, unforgiving hibernation. Amidst the shallows, a crystal cluster lay, waiting. Sinking. What once came from a the barest sliver of translucent stone had grown to the size of a boulder, growing. Nearest the center, deep green and teal could be seen, from which clear, crystalline spokes emerge. It obscurs the huddled form encased within, long-legged and equine in nature. That it had gone undisturbed in Canis for so long.... Not that the wet, skeletal wasteland was much a place warranting frequent visit.

Muddy waters lap around the jagged crytals, rippling as bones clatter in offense of a sudden movement. The spiked chrysalis shudders and it sinks; deeper and deepr. Violently shuddering.

Get me out.

A powerful kick shatters their resilient home and sends shards splintering into the surrounding, murky pool. Some come to float at the top, others sink, and both are joined by the gooey, nurturing fluid encased within. It stains the mud an inky red. As cloven hooves fly free, countless sparks of static bounce forth, lapping along the spokes of the egg and skirting over the surface of the water. The neonate feels the shock bounce back to it, creeping back into its egg and charging the fluid entering the translucent shell. It jolts its internal systems, and the surprise is most unwelcome.

The sound of its rapidly beating heart booms loud in its ears, sending it into a panic. Kicking its legs in desperation, it tries to get free. Free from the shock. The confines. The discomfort. Eager for release, it's first breath is shaky and incomplete. Water flows out, and then gushes back in as the egg rolls onto its opposite side. Sinking lower and lower still. Help. Help. But no one would hear it.

Nothing is going to go its way, it seems. The first kick had been successful- hitting the chrysalis in just the right spot- but the next kick, and the one following, are weak and futile. Its fear makes it clumbsy, and rightly so, but it could not comprehend this. It could not catch its breath and stop to think things through as the water rushes in and laps over its six tightly clenched eyes. Young lungs are threatened with all but the air it saught.

Something isn't right. Still in a panic, its front legs press against the inner chrysalis. Sharp shoulders smack against the opposite side as its head begins to wildly thrash as much as it could. But the water is relentless and cold. It sucks away its warmth and leaves it feeling a chill he would like not to feel again. Assuming he would make it out of this to be able to feel anything else at all.

Consciousness slowly begins to fill the small creature, bringing a hint of sense and understanding to what is going on. It is trapped in something. That something is surrounded by water. Water is getting in. It needed air to breathe, not water. No. But the water gets in anyway. A sharp inhale sends the muddy fluid where it had no place to be as the colt continuously kicks with its freed hocks. It forces the egg to continue its violent rocking, which isn't helping it at all.

In its anxiety, more static bounces across the stone, though it isn't as numerous before. The shocks go through the strained neonate's body, forcing its heart to slam against the inside of its chest. Coughing up what didn't belong won't do much for longer as what remains of its air quickly rushes out in large, desperate bubbles. There isn't much time left... not much time.

The fear, panic, and desperation completely takes hold and the ongoing battle could be heard from a good distance. Knobby legs kick up endless streams of water, though the chrysalis only seems to be sinking lower and lower. Was it its destiny to be buried with the rest of these bones so soon? It didn't know what it was, or what it was meant to be. The creature only knew that it wanted to live, and it would keep kicking until its very heart gave out.

Something cracks. The growing pressure on the inside sends wiry, white fingers stretching through the translucent shell. With its integrity weakened, it would only take one more good push. One more... but it was not enough. Fortunately, the relentless kicking takes hold on a mound of silt and forces the chrysalis to turn over. Water rushes out, and air reclaims its lungs. And what a breath it was- loud and relieved, but it was scared. It needed help.

Terrified, it releases a hollow cry. The sound is trapped within its own shell, however, and only serves to cause discomfort to its own ears. It was still trapped, but at least it could breathe. For now. The neonate stops moving. Long enough to gather its energy and return much needed oxygen to its quivering muscles.

Time passes and the neonate remains unmoving during its recovery. As its breath is given leave to return, the colt takes the opportunity to be silent. Attempts to slow its own pace of heart is only mildly successful; quick breaths still plague its nostrils. The tension is palpable, but at least it is not in immediate danger. As far as it knows.

The silence of the cave around it makes its own ragged breathing deafeningly loud. This is its breath. Its sound. It was trying to be, but it was just so hard. Bones shift in their piles from afar. Water ripples. Bats cry out in the imperceptible darkness of the cavern. Alone. It was incredibly alone. Only it did not have the leisure to worry about that now. There was still a job to be done.

A renewed purpose fills the young soul. Lean muscle coils, ready to spring- would its proceeding attempts be as pitiful as the last? The next few seconds would tell. Its breath quickens in anticipation, and finally, in one frustrated effort, it thrashes wildly, aiming to shatter the weakened chrysalis with one final burst of resolve.

-- and then it happens. Its poweful hind legs curl back into their protective casing only to kick out with a force that shatters the remaining imperfections in the chrysalis. They roll away into the murky water, soon to be forgotten. Inky red fluid flows freely, and the rest of it stains the small pool as the colt flails free from its confines. A narrow head breaks free as knobby knees push the remaining shell away from its torso.

Relieved. It was so relieved. And tired. And done. The desire for further movement was no longer there- the hard part was done. Or so it thought. The colt lays there, mostly submerged. It rests atop a bed of its own chrysalis and keeps his head just barely above the murky water, using the nearby bank as a rest for its cream-colored cheek.

Not even its eyes open yet. It simply breathes. Deep breaths enter and exit narrow, flaring nostrils. A small chest rises and falls, causing ripples to dance across the mud-red water. But the water could not be seen. Nor would the rest of the cave. In truth, it didn't even have to open its eyes to know that it was dark. Lights out. What good were six pairs of eyes if not one of them could see without light?

Beady eyes open slowly, one pair and a time, and all blink in unison. Nothingness. Was it still in its dream? It had been so warm there... yet the colt could only feel a biting chill creeping into its fur. It should stand... I should stand. But it does not. It lays there, unmoving and exhausted. Many eyes return to a close so it could continue to rest. Moving will simply have to wait.

The solace couldn't last. Resting within the reaches of its own mind, it seeks peace. A peace scantly delivered and interrupted by the errant flap of mighty wings and voices in the distance. A long ear flaps against its neck as it catches the sound of many feets moving closer. Quickly, closer.

The sudden grip at its neck forces it from the cold comforts of the murky pool and it complains with a loud and surprised noise of complaint. Dragged onto a damp mound of soil nearby, it struggles in vain, and struggles still as the unseeable form steps away. A new wave of fear jolts its back legs to spring. Its rump steadily rises into the air, showing off the jagged crystal jutting from its croup, and whipping the long, leonine tail protruding lower still. The knobby knees of its front legs bite into the soil at its attempt to stand, but it didn't. Its legs were stiff and sore, and after a half-heartened attempt to move them, it's rump falls back down. How pathetic it must have looked- ears low and eyes half opened. Did it have any dignity at all?

Words hadn't made way into its mouth yet, and still nothing made sense. But the voices continue, and soon enough, a booming voice makes itself known a few steps away. The colt shudders violently and jerks its head away from the noise. What is happening? Part of it was already willing to accept this fate, whatever it was. It couldn't run. It didn't even have the energy to stand. Not until the second introduction. HELLO, the voice calls once more.

The gem's pulse quickens, and as the blood flows, so too does a winding current of static. Thin fingers of electricity, so pale blue they were almost white, bounce across the surface of its speckled brown fur. Clicking noises blip into existence as the sparks jump from one point on the colt's body to the next; shoulder to gem, backside to neck, snout to antler. Its back legs kick up again, more wobbly this time as it lifts a foreleg onto a cloven hoof. The sharp structure digs into the soil as it attempts to lift itself to its full height.

The wobbling rump sticks straight up- and back- as the other front hoof joins its twin in a feeble attempt to stand. Electric jolts continue to dance across its damp fur and illuminate the narrow barrel of its body with it's whispy strings of light. Thin legs push it to a stand at last, though it was still quivering and like to fall out of balance should it dare take its first step. Still, the static persisted, and the colt seemed largely unbothered by it. HELLO, it calls again. The colt jumps! It's legs get a bit twisted in the fright, but it catches itself before it could return to the ground.

Sparks continue to bounce around it. From the scales of its spine, to its smooth, creamy underbelly- then back again. Still, it did not have words. Frightened and unable to move, it felt that these meager specks of light were its only defense. The colt stands at a meager three feet at the shoulder, thin and frail with three pairs of beady, red eyes widened with fear. It stares unfocused, head low, and strains to see the shadow darker than all the others. There it waits for the shadow to make its move. There was nothing it could do.

words 213
tags @Game Master CJ