Rosewood

As with many Fae clutches, she burst into being surrounded by foliage, claws slicing and dripping with sap-like viscous as she tumbled to the dirt. The den she found herself blinking inside of was empty, but there were traces, traces of family, of safety, and so she stayed. She stayed and waited patiently for the family scents to grow stronger, not realizing that she had been left behind, not realizing that she had hatched too late.

Eventually, when her hunger grew too fierce to ignore, she journeyed outside of her den into the bright, wide world that stretched on and on, far past anything her little brain could comprehend, and began to hunt, springing after bugs like a strange winged frog and narrowly avoiding being caught in the claws of others.