Somewhere tucked into the ferns and mist of Cetus cave, there sat a dazzling formation of steely stone. It stood small, like a boulder, but sharp and refined like something built by a machine. Yet inside, there was, as with any other new gembound, a neonate; fully formed and ready to break free.

If only she could figure out how to.

See, inside this hunk of seemingly rainbow-shimmering steel, a new life had already figured out the dismal situation she was in. Stuck. Uncomfortably so, at that. The home her stone had formed for her was hardly befitting anything made of flesh and bone. Just as jagged inside as out, she'd developed over time in some of the oddest positions and angles imaginable.

Currently, she'd managed to wedge herself properly upside-down. This was not at all comfortable.

She shifted slightly and found some give for her hind legs. Those were the strong legs. She could work with this. A push. Nope. A harder push. Just some more space. That's all she'd need for now...

...she felt heat rush across her inside her prison, like dancing sparks, as she pushed harder against the walls of her prison until finally...!

"AH!" She landed in a heap of damp fur and broken shards amongst the moss and ferns of her new wide world. "Ah?" Eyes blinked to adjust, and body shifted, twisted, until she stood upright. Small dancing flecks of light danced across her damp pelt, until dying out entirely, along with any residual glow in the... similar stone at the base of her long, scaled tail.

She took a moment, then, to just take in the world around her, in all its colors and mystery. Wow.

It came through the groves at first. The shuffling of its steps, the grunts of its breathing only audible as it reached the heart, where the sounds carried across the edge of the marsh. There was another sound following that - wet, slippery, smooth, and then nothing.

The creature surfaced a moment later encrusted with debris from the bog. Its hide was smooth and sleek, although hidden by the endless shadows. It was shaped almost like a bear - a grizzly, if anyone could've grabbed a glimpse - but there was something off about its face. Little things. A longer snout, with a curved shape at the end. Strange protrusions from the massive jaw line. As it moved it swayed with uncertainty, but each step was powerful; the ground shook, and shook, and shook, until there was stillness.

The creature had found what it had sought: the scent of a neonate having raised it from its slumber, its hunger greater than anything, the beast merely needed to wait - for it was adapted to the darkness of the deep water, not this terrestrial place, and was eyeless - and with the waiting would come its next meal.

Eventually, the mist and fog and ferns and trees lost their novelty. The youngster, rested fine enough since hatching quite some long minutes ago, had no trouble finding her footing and setting off on her first adventure. A whole wide world awaited her and she was an eager participant.

Perhaps... too eager.

The skirting hum of a winged insect buzzed past her ears and she turned her attentions promptly to it. It was easy to track the dragonfly-esque thing as it skirted from place to place low to the ferns, looking for smaller bugs that would occasionally leap between the stalks. Pitch followed without really running or chasing, simply letting it lead her.

She stopped when she realized she was suddenly ankle-deep in swamp water.

The ferns and grasses around her hadn't changed at all. She turned to backtrack but found her tiny frame had left no trail to follow, no prints left in the silt and mud, swallowed by the wet. Instinctual panic consumed the youngster for a moment, but not enough to break her resolve just yet.

She decided on a direction and started forward again.

She stopped once more when she felt water lapping at her chest. Not this way. Again she turned, kicking up silt as she aimed for another direction and found herself only treading water just as deep as before, if not deeper. Turned around and going in circles, she began to keen, a cry reserved in real world nature for mothers when infants had quite given up on solving a problem.

Except, here in the caves, very few lives indeed began in the protective shadow of parentage. Left to the fates, the sodden coal-colored newborn was at the mercy of an unforgiving force...

...the meek do not last long in Cetus.

She'd soon learn this lesson the hard way.

It had done this many times before. Rarely, but often enough to know the drill. The beast could feel the electrical hum of magicka within the air and it lured him closer, lurching and slow until it realized the target had moved towards the water. The beast grinned; its tapered face becoming nothing but teeth and tusk. Its front lip lifted in a flehmen response reminiscent of something primordial, perhaps from one of the components of its creation; a muscle-memory that no longer applied - and then things changed. It veered towards the deep of the bog. As soon as its massive feet touched upon the water, the rest of it plunged - and with some finesse it slipped through the murk, heading straight for where the newborn sat in wait. It only slowed when it reached the opposite bank; upon lifting free of the water this next time, it was poised in wait.

Listening.
Sniffing.
Sensing.

And then the babe began to keen for its mother, and the beast was off. It shot forth from the water with a kick of its hind legs, vaulting free of the bog, shooting through the reeds, a stampede of hunger and malicious intent.

Something came crashing through the waters towards her. At first, she looked towards the sound, falling silent in her curiosity. Then the creature, beast really, came into view and she shrieked like a banshee, turned tail and fled. The waters stifled her movements. Instinct overwhelmed her entirely, she released that awful stench of long-decay and rot and suddenly flipped belly-up and stiff in the water, writhing as if convulsing with a sudden seizure until falling completely still and simply floating, so far played out that her 'corpse' exhaled no bubbles as the water flowed over her wide-eyed face.

For all intents and purposes, she was suddenly dead and rotten.

Oppossums were just naturals when it came to playing dead; a reflex that would've saved her life, had it not been for one small miscalculation.

She couldn't hold her breath forever, and this thing might not be put off by the scent of decay and rot like most predators.

Using its lower jaw like a shovel, everything in this creature's path was scooped up. It tasted the mud of Cetus on it's tongue, the reeds tangled across its many teeth, and soon it would shovel-up the newborn child. It was not the child this beast wanted; had it been merely hungry for flesh, the behemoth would have satiated itself with lesser beasts aplenty, whose bones already littered the depths of the bog. No - the creature was like a steam engine as it ploughed the mud, coming closer and closer by the second. It wanted that precious extra spark indicative to every neonate: the stone. The magicka.

Pitch could fake it all they wanted, but before long the end would be upon her.

Now wasn't the time.

Wake up.

Now definitely wasn't the time to play dead.

WAKE UP!

Eyes blinked against muddy water and just as the beast was upon her, she rolled and found herself being knocked and gouged by savage fangs as it rushed ultimately just past her. She didn't go far. The water and reeds kept her from moving and she found herself plastered against the beast's leg for a moment, tangled.

She did the only thing she could do. She tucked herself smartly around and bit down on the monster's leg, hard, her stone giving it the magicka it wanted so badly, but with a painful static shock accompanying it, a current that for just a second flushed across the water's surface as well, shocking both the beast and the child- not enough to harm or stun, but just enough to sting. Despite it, the little pitch held fast to its leg, in hopes its massive head could not and would not reach her so far back.

Her stomach bled. The wound was deep, gored as if she'd been stuck by a bull's horns. Blood mixed with the water and she could feel the left side of her lower body losing sensation, losing strength. She'd do her best to curl herself, tail and legs and all, around the thing's ankle. With luck, it'd be enough.

The beast was not dissuaded, although it missed the mark and gouged the dirt instead. It did not realize that one of its tusks had caught the babe, doesn't smell the blood, and when it pauses it tries to find her again. The creature tipped its head sidelong in the manner of a crocodile trying to carry its young - but instead it let the mud and slop of its charge dump across the bog water. A glimmer of something slender illuminates the center of the creature's mouth - bifurcating its massive tongue - but was once again hidden when the beast closed its mouth. It waited, and its own power coursed through its body; its attempt to pinpoint the target would not last long. As soon as Pitch began defending themselves with magicka, the sensation of her weak attacks upon his limb were missed, but the taste of the power in the air alerted the strange beast to everything. The assault singed the very surface of its seal-hide, a buzzing, burning, irritating sensation. The beast turned and used its broad face as a club, but did not catch anything with it. It continued to turn until the small creature's magic had alleviated itself - perhaps if it were too tired to fight, it would be simpler.

At this point the beast stopped, punching the ground with its forelimbs. It straightened out with its head pointed at the bog, and without a second thought began to bee-line for the water. It would not take many of its heavy stomping steps before it would reach the thickest section of bog, and at that point it would leap from the bank and crash through the heart of the dark water. Back to where it had come from. If the smaller creature tried to hold on it would surely drown; if it did not, it would not matter anyways. The opossum had exhausted her magic and was no longer a viable target.

The little pitch was shaken free of the beast's leg the moment it began its sprint back to the water. She didn't dare make a sound as she did her best to drag herself back to dry land. Her paws touched something dryer than the wet mud and water and when she grabbed hold, her claws dug into comforting bark.

A tree was even better. Safer.

She struggled only for a few moments until she found her way to the fork of a branch and wrapped her tail around it to balance herself. That still worked fine, at least.

Blood stained the bark. She was still bleeding out.

Sleepy.

Darkness overcame darkness and soon she fell back into a slumber like only hours before. The stone at the base of her tail, undamaged by all the ruckus, would over the next hour or so form a new chrysalis, to protect the child as she healed... and changed...

She would not be such an easy target when next she awoke.

Exit Pitch.

Pitch will be inside her chrysalis for the next two weeks.
She will hatch out again on December 3rd.

You have survived being hunted by a beast of Cetus!
The beast has departed the area.