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Description

Awareness came in starts and stops for the little patchwork vireling as he opened tired eyes for the very first time. He heard muffled voices coming from just outside the darkness of his egg, strange but familiar. Feeling came in somewhere along the line as he realized that the fur of his tail had planted itself firmly in his nose and it tickled; the smallest sneeze rocked the egg back and forth and suddenly movement existed too.

There was some instinct that told him he should not be contained within this tiny little shell of an egg, there had to be more to the world than just this darkness, so he shifted. Small paws reached out until they pushed against the opposite wall and he shoved with all the might he could muster. Orange tipped horns broke free of the shell sending spiderweb cracks across the entirety of the egg. Then with one final push, the patchwork vireling tumbled unceremoniously like a lopsided stone to the floor of the Crimson Crater nursery staring upward at two blurry purple and orange shapes. He chirred to them from his back, blinking and rubbing his face trying to free his eyes and nose of the leftover liquid that had surrounded him for so long. The vireling took his first breath of salty, desert air.

“Our firstborn is piebald.” The orange one whispered as if afraid to spook him. The newborn recognized her voice as one of those heard through his eggshell prison, muffled then but much louder now. With the gentle touch of a parent, she nudged the patchwork vireling rightside up despite her hatchling’s indignant protests.

He struggled to find his feet, wobbling and unsteady and about to fall until a purple muzzle appeared, pushing against his side and holding until he stilled. When the little vireling huffed a puff of smoke followed, succeeding only in scaring himself. He collapsed to his stomach, staring with huge eyes at the dissipating dark cloud his own nostrils produced. A single paw darted out to smack at it, discovering a moment too late that there was nothing at all to smack but vapers as his paw sailed through it all with a confused squeak.

Quiet laughter and a new-but-not voice pulled his attention back to the two adults in the room as the orange one spoke, “What should we name him?”

“Caute.” Said the orange with a thoughtful hum as she considered her hatchling with a tilted head and a soft mother’s smile, “It means “caution”. He has the bright coloring of a snake that shouldn’t be trifled with, don’t you think?”
The other adult’s eyes traveled from his partner to his hatchling and back again as he mused over the name. He gave both of them a decided nod, speaking with pride in his voice, “Caute it is then. His siblings will have a strong eldest brother. If this is our firstborn, then I’m eager to see what the rest of the eggs will hatch into.”
“As am I.” The orange female agreed, sliding the newly named Caute toward a snuggly nestled bundle of still unhatched eggs. He puffed at them, another cloud of smoke burst from his lungs luckily without the scare of the first. Inspecting them, he noticed the darkened, curled up shapes from within and the familiar scent of the liquid still trapped within his fur coming from them too. He knew then that these eggs were those of other virelings just like him. Unsteady feet wobbled step by shaky step until Caute laid down next to them, his head rested atop one and his tail curled around two others protectively. The moment his eyes shut he drifted off to sleep, exhausted by his discovery of the world and awaiting the birth of his siblings.

Description

Awareness came in starts and stops for the little patchwork vireling as he opened tired eyes for the very first time. He heard muffled voices coming from just outside the darkness of his egg, strange but familiar. Feeling came in somewhere along the line as he realized that the fur of his tail had planted itself firmly in his nose and it tickled; the smallest sneeze rocked the egg back and forth and suddenly movement existed too.

There was some instinct that told him he should not be contained within this tiny little shell of an egg, there had to be more to the world than just this darkness, so he shifted. Small paws reached out until they pushed against the opposite wall and he shoved with all the might he could muster. Orange tipped horns broke free of the shell sending spiderweb cracks across the entirety of the egg. Then with one final push, the patchwork vireling tumbled unceremoniously like a lopsided stone to the floor of the Crimson Crater nursery staring upward at two blurry purple and orange shapes. He chirred to them from his back, blinking and rubbing his face trying to free his eyes and nose of the leftover liquid that had surrounded him for so long. The vireling took his first breath of salty, desert air.

“Our firstborn is piebald.” The orange one whispered as if afraid to spook him. The newborn recognized her voice as one of those heard through his eggshell prison, muffled then but much louder now. With the gentle touch of a parent, she nudged the patchwork vireling rightside up despite her hatchling’s indignant protests.

He struggled to find his feet, wobbling and unsteady and about to fall until a purple muzzle appeared, pushing against his side and holding until he stilled. When the little vireling huffed a puff of smoke followed, succeeding only in scaring himself. He collapsed to his stomach, staring with huge eyes at the dissipating dark cloud his own nostrils produced. A single paw darted out to smack at it, discovering a moment too late that there was nothing at all to smack but vapers as his paw sailed through it all with a confused squeak.

Quiet laughter and a new-but-not voice pulled his attention back to the two adults in the room as the orange one spoke, “What should we name him?”

“Caute.” Said the orange with a thoughtful hum as she considered her hatchling with a tilted head and a soft mother’s smile, “It means “caution”. He has the bright coloring of a snake that shouldn’t be trifled with, don’t you think?”
The other adult’s eyes traveled from his partner to his hatchling and back again as he mused over the name. He gave both of them a decided nod, speaking with pride in his voice, “Caute it is then. His siblings will have a strong eldest brother. If this is our firstborn, then I’m eager to see what the rest of the eggs will hatch into.”
“As am I.” The orange female agreed, sliding the newly named Caute toward a snuggly nestled bundle of still unhatched eggs. He puffed at them, another cloud of smoke burst from his lungs luckily without the scare of the first. Inspecting them, he noticed the darkened, curled up shapes from within and the familiar scent of the liquid still trapped within his fur coming from them too. He knew then that these eggs were those of other virelings just like him. Unsteady feet wobbled step by shaky step until Caute laid down next to them, his head rested atop one and his tail curled around two others protectively. The moment his eyes shut he drifted off to sleep, exhausted by his discovery of the world and awaiting the birth of his siblings.