In another universe, there may have been lush grass and
foothills stretching towards the infinite horizon. There may have been the whimsical song of birds in the newborn dawn, twittering and chirping announcing their presence. There may have been the soft groans of a mother and weak bleating of a child, so fresh that it kicked feebly against an amniotic sac — looking, for all the world, like a drowned rat rather than a wonder of creation.
But, this was not that universe.
In this universe, the child lounged alone, moonlit gaze traveling to and fro across the mycelia-infested carvings. No mother in sight, no herd to be seen. A simple, woolly little lamb boasting an already-impressive twist of obsidian horns. They would grow as
he did.
But, there was no growing to be done yet (even though hunger gnawed at his gut.) Knowledge-seeking first, Throne peered up at the clustered markings, a strange disc-like shape giving forth life — or frightening it away? The crudeness of the shapes lent few answers. It appeared that, maybe, the creatures were running away in leaps and bounds and flights. Other creatures, much smaller than the sharp-toothed ones, knelt beneath the disc —
shelter? Perhaps it was they that scared the monsters away, not the tall figure.
Throne ground his teeth against one another once, in thought, and murmured to himself,
"away."
The stones around him shifted minutely, and the pebbles scattered.
@Kera