Libitus - Chapter 1:
Purple wisps filled the air, creating an impenetrable barrier against any form of sight. The only reprieve was the sporadically placed dim lights from the luminous fungi that rested amongst the thin, twisted branches of the trees that barely clung to life amongst the darkness.
It was here amongst the seeping darkness of the Driftwood Drag that a single egg began to dimly glow, unseen by everyone. As it glowed, on and off and on again, it began to rock from side to side. Left, on, right, off – repeat. Eventually the knocking of the hatchling within could be heard, only quiet, but it went unnoticed to any who could have passed by.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
The luminescent eggshell began to crack. Small crevices opening, spreading under the pressure of the earthquake that the hatchling beneath was causing. The rocking, and knocking, grew more persistent, forceful. The egg began to flash quicker, brighter as the hatchling inside grew restless – seeking the freedom of the murky world its egg lay within.
Eventually there was a blinding flash as the top of the eggshell was broken completely from the rest, slowly falling to the side of the remains of the egg and hitting the ground without a sound. But the hatchling within was not finished. It struggled, toppling the remains of the egg that still trapped it only to fall to the cold, dark ground below. Strange muffled noises of indignation could be heard from the hatchling, growing louder as the youngling realised it was still trapped within its sac, unable to take its first breath.
The hatchling kicked and clawed and bit at the sac, attempting to rip the thin water filled membrane that remain as the last barrier between it and the world. One of its claws managed to find purchase on the sac, puncturing the sac and in its desperate attempt to be free the claw ripped down the thin membrane, ripping it and causing the liquid and hatchling within to be forcefully expelled.
Gasping its first breaths the hatchling lay in the dirt, still covered with the fluid from the egg. Driven by instinct the hatchling knew it had to get up, move, hide. It was in danger where it was. Yet it was still exhausted from the struggle it had just had to endure.
He stumbled across the earth after gaining enough strength to lift himself. He was unaware of his surroundings for the most part, the crunch beneath is small paws barely registering in his young mind. That was until he tripped over some of the crunchy material, landing face first into some of it. Or rather, them.
Beneath his feet were smashed egg shells and underdeveloped foetuses of other dragons. Dragons like him. And now he was face first in one of the corpses. The corpse of what could have been his sibling. The panic began to rise and as he looked around he saw more smashed eggs, more mutilated hatchlings that hadn’t quite made it to life before theirs was snuffed.
Gasping breaths.
Heart thumping.
Blood rushing in his ears.
Shivers.
The panic had already set in. Everything was dangerous, he needed to hide – now. His back legs shuffled backwards, towards the safety of his hatching site. Brushing against something he quickly lashes around to see one of the foetuses. He cowered. Then, he bolted.
As quickly as his tiny legs can carry him, he runs. Blind panic and instinct drive him away from the massacre. His eyes did not see. His ears did not hear. His skin did not register touch. All he knew was the need to escape. To where, he didn’t know. Nor did he care.
He didn’t know how long he ran for but eventually his body could run no more. It was hungry, tired. Unable to do much more.
The hatchling found a split in a twisted tree, crawling into the rotting trunk and collapsing. Shallow breaths, the slight rise and fall of the tiny chest – the only signs of life from the little hatchling.
