Igustnik

]UNDER CONSTRUCTION
Igustnik never knew his ancestors, his clan, his parents. While he was still incubating in his egg, all of them had perished. Was it a disease? Exhaustion and wounds received during a perilous hunt? Did the debris of a landslide hurled at them come after their deaths, or was it the cause? He would never know. What he did know was that when he hatched from his cracked egg, he found himself under bones picked clean by scavengers, ribbones shielding him and the eggs crushed around him from stones piled high, an empty skull lay by the discarded shards of shell. If he had known what this meant, he might have run, to save himself from what tragic fate befell them. He might have cried, to mourn the family he would never know.

But he didn't know. So he stayed in his nest. The creatures that had devoured his clan's corpes were still around, they glowed in the dark and they were tasty. He would spent his days in the cave waking up with the small sliver of sun that shown through a hole in the rubble and right into his face, he would catch some glowing foodstuffs, he would try to go a little farther when he sniffed around his sleeping place before returning to nestle himself in between furs he had found, moss that he had collected and the skulls and bones of his parents that never moved.