Do not fear for I am Brave

The chrysalis had been growing slowly.

How it hadn't been consumed was, perhaps, pure luck. But it had been left unmolested long enough for the creature inside to grow to its full size or, at least, full size for a cub of its species, merely little more than a shadow in the red-black of the chrysalis.

But it was time for it to hatch, it had run out of space to grow, so it twisted, pressed massive paws against the fragile stone and pushed, the fragile crystal giving way and dropping the birth-wet lion cub onto the sands.

He blinked slowly, bracing his paws on hot-hot-hot sands, shook himself to clean off his fur, tongue lolling out in the heat. Oh, it was hot.

MONTY

The heat was a threat all its own--but not the only one to face the lion cub. Undoubtedly, if he survived his first cycles, his world would become a series of dangers, many of which might leave their marks: but for now, the only threat was a single Eyehook Vulture: a small one, but still circling warily, staring down at the stone.

The color had reminded it of a clot of blood, when it'd found it: but hooked beak had found only inedible rock. Still, it didn't stop the ragged thing from returning every so often, circling and watching the stone with half-hopeful hunger.

This particular bird was thin, perhaps fifteen foot wingspan--a great deal smaller than its brethren. Young, perhaps--or sickly? It was beige-brown, short-tailed, and mostly smooth-skinned, with few feathers. At the moment of Jasiri's hatching it was soaring perhaps thirty feet overhead, riding the thermals: and the moment the stone cracked it folded its wings to drop, sweeping by once to peer intently at the hatchling.

Perhaps it was best that this Eyehook wasn't experienced: but it was instinctive, and on its second sweep it clawed for the lion cub's head... and on the third, it went for the eyes.

__________

Jasiri must roll to save his face from Eyehook damage! This particular Eyehook Vulture is fairly small, and alone, so if he succeeds he can escape it or fight it off. If he fails, however, the Eyehook will continue clawing at his face, and he will have one more attempt to save his eyes!

@Jasiri

Luck was not on the cub's side that day.

He had little warning, and likely would not have recognized it for what it was, young as he was. Perhaps a shadow overhead, or maybe the whistling of winds through ragged feathers. As it were, he braced his paws, shaking himself and looked around, and like many made the mistake of not looking up, at least not until he heard a sound, something swooping by, a blur of color that he couldn't make out, something he would have said 'tan' but was more 'beige', whipping by and lashing and not striking him but still too close, but still he puffed up and spat like an insulted kitten, arching his back and snarling, but then the creature was coming back with awful talons stretched out wide, and he scrambled to the side with fumbling paws, trying to avoid them with a cry of alarm.

The Eyehook slashed, and tumbled into the sand as it missed; hot sand, too close to the potential prey that might also just turn on it. Alarmed, the sickly bird scrambled to take flight again, oversized wings beating at the air to raise it back up, and away. At best, perhaps it got a scratch or two over the cub's face--but no real damage.

It would circle for awhile, ominous, hungry, but not dare to again try its luck. Not while alone, at least.

@Jasiri

Pain, burning hotter than even the sands, tore across his skull, and he squealed, stumbling back and shaking his head even as he watched the bird roll across the sand. It scrambled to rise, and he tried to roar, batting his paws at it, but the sound that came out was some sort of embarrassing cross between hiss and 'back-up-here-comes-a-hairball', but rolled with it, glaring up after the bird.

Slowly, he reached up to rub a too-big paw against the wounds, finding little more than a scrape, nothing that wouldn't scab over and heal, licking what little blood had tainted his tawn fur red, keeping an eye on the vulture as he did so.

The Eyehook kept in his sights, the lion cub began to lick his paw, using that to wipe the wound, over and over until he was satisfied and then, the wound clean, he began to plot over the sands, still trying to get used to his new legs, new paws, especially with the sands beneath him shifting with every step, but he was quickly getting used to it, even though he had to keep an eye on the circling Vulture, fearful of being attacked again.

So was this his new life?

Apparently so.

He plodded along the sand, brown rimmed ears twitching, leopard spots standing out strong on his fur. Perhaps The Dunes were not the best spot to hatch--well, neither was Hydra, but The Dunes weren't the best spot in Hydra if one was made to choose.

But he was getting the hang of it, how to roll his stocky body with the crumbling of the Sands even as he tilted his head back to watch the Vulture, only stumbling, sometimes, when he got his paws tangled up in each other or didn't correct himself in time.

Something pricked his ears, although what the sound was he didn't know, young as he was.

But the Crucible was hard to miss, the massive mesas fascinating, though the strangeness, the newness had him wary. His dark nose twitched, the cub standing as tall as he could, seeing as he wasn't a terribly tall little thing, squinting as he tried to make out just what it was he was seeing.

Something moving, yes, but deep down he felt as though it wasn't alive. And he wanted it, oh, but he wanted it. So, with a look around himself, checking for danger, he trotted towards the Crucible.

-exit Jasiri-