The Cycle

Be a good egg

Robin blinked; a bit of dust temporarily blinded her as lay on the ground. She sat up sharply, listening for any sounds nearby. She squinted and glanced around the room, some mushrooms by the door gave just enough light for her to see. She could almost feel the warmth of the sun as it climbed in the sky, but she could not see it from her current spot. Her room was down at the bottom of the family burrow, just above sea level, simply because her family stopped here and could dig no more. The ground was too soft and she often had nightmares of flooding. She stretched and crooned, her quills extending out along the length of her tail. They had grown more prominent, and were now tipped with black. They had appeared quite quickly after her hatching. It seemed she had barely been in the nursery burrow a few hours, being hefted to and fro for food and water trips, before she found herself being requested to eat outside the burrow to save food for the young ones. These days, she brought food for them too. Everyone must work in the burrow.

A coo here, a wiggle there, she greeted her fellow burrow mates as she walked through the narrow halls. They were just barely older than .5, out for some naughty jaunt around the burrow. Triplets, these were and were constantly together causing mischief, digging up mushrooms and bones. Her father would soon be rounding them up back to the nursery room. Robin splayed her claws in reprimand at them. She believed leaving the nest so young to roam was a sure sign of future negative traits. Not in the mood to lasso her younger siblings, she continued on the way to the surface for a breath of fresh air, some crisp clean water and the fulfilling, but tiring task of bringing back fresh ferns for the young ones.

She passed by the nursery area, and peered in. Her mother lay by a clutch of 5 eggs. She cooed in a friendly greeting as she watched her father putter around the den, scratching at the walls to make a bit more room. He rarely returned to the surface to deposit dirt, having trained all his life to become a master of the burrowing technique. They were a fast growing family; her mother with her bright blue colors, her father a mixture of blue and black. They looked like curious bluebirds. Her own features were a mix of red and black, with a ring around her neck. She curiously did not resemble her clutch-mates, most of whom had met unfortunate ends. Robin had been lucky. She inherited a few good points from her parents. She didn't get any combat inherits, and couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag, but she sure could kite. Her nimble footedness had helped her give a young mega the slip by running around in circles and her metabolism had helped her survive the Great Starvation. A velociraptor pack had camped their old burrow, no one in and no one out. The few roots that could be dug up went to the members who needed it most, many hadn't survived. Robin was the only surviving member of her clutch-mates. Sparrow got accidentally punted into a lake and drowned, Kiwi had a run-in with a local pteranodon gang, and Tiki was convinced that "Love conquers all" just before he died of stress trying to court a cute velociraptor. Fittingly, she ate him afterwards. She smirked fondly at his memory. Maybe his next egg will be a velo, so he can reunite with his love.

Finally nearing the surface, she popped through the burrow hole and landed ungracefully with a thud, distracted by the thoughts of her siblings. Chirping, she got up and looked around. The sun shone brightly overhead and she basked in the welcoming warmth before shaking herself to focus. The forest was alive with sound. The majestic calls of the nearby apatos lounging by the pond at the top of the hill.

She climbed to the top and watched the majestic long-necks from a distance. She felt too intimidated to go any closer. Her family was previously in good relations with the longnecks, but after an unfortunate accidental poison mushroom incident and the cross cultural flub of offering potatoes and tubers to make up for it, there had been great dissent, hoards of long-necks died from the shrooms and the orys had been tailed whipped, stomped and whittled down, until only the bluebirds, Robin's family, remained. A recent change in the environment drastically lowered the chance of the long-necks accidentally eating shrooms, but they never forgave them. A peace treaty was drawn up, but they would never be re-admitted to the pack, only given cold indifference. Some of her burrow mates had futilely tried to remain by their side, only to die of a broken heart. A glance at the herd told her all she needed to know, the long-necks had drained the pond. She would have to go to the lake for water. She ran down the cliff side, landing a bit roughly at the bottom. Shaking herself to concentrate, she peered over the lake, looking for any mysterious ripples. A different type of long-neck liked to frequent this pond, one who could "grab bad little orys who don't listen to their parents" as her dad would tease her. The threat was very real though, and an older burrow-mate Griffin had been lounging by the shore when he was pulled to the depths by the mysterious sea noodle.

A deep sniff revealed nothing but the lilac scent of her family's burrow in the distance, so she ran forward and drank quickly, the cool water quenching her thirst. Her quills and tail ached from the previous fall. She glanced around and found tall lavender stalks. These she chewed into a paste and applied on her poor quills with some difficulty. She remembered the triplets and the scrapes they were likely to have gotten into running about. She gathered the remaining flowers and some juicy-looking ferns and trekked home, diving head-first into the burrow.

As she tucked the ferns into the storage room, a piercing screech filled the tunnels. A quick sniff told her all she needed to know. Velos! In the burrow! She quickly filled in some dirt to lock herself into the tiny room, then shook herself for being selfish. The terrified screeches continued echoing through the burrow. With a determined squawk, she ran through the tunnels until she came to the main nursery. Under the lights of the glowing crystals, she watched the fierce battle. Eggs lay smashed in the middle of the room and the prized nest was in ruins, being trampled under sharp talons. Her father was locked in combat with a large velociraptor. His teeth shone bright in the dimly lit room as feathers and quills were ripped and flew in a flurry around the fighters. They tussled and tore at each other with shocking ferocity. Her father was no lightweight and had picked up a few tricks on his way to learning how to maximize dirt capacity. She could hear the hissing of sand as her father bobbed and weaved, trying to blind his opponent to get a few jabs in. While faster at pecking, his beak was much more fragile, claws more suited to molding earth, and the battle had been ongoing for a while. The velociraptor was adjusting to the sand in his eyes, and it no longer slowed his onslaught. Robin wondered why her mother didn't intervene and a glance in the back of the room told her the reason. She was heavy with eggs, and showed signs of being injured. She stood, screeching, huddled into a corner with the triplets behind her. She was the only barrier between those little ory-o's and certain death. Hers had been the alarm cry that alerted Robin. She was trying to distract the velo, hoping to aid her husband, and claustrophobia, in punishing this intruder. A sharp screech snapped her attention back to the clash. She had been spotted and the velociraptor immediately leapt over to her. A dodge to the left sent him into the wall, giving her father the opening for a final fatal blow, but a sickening bone crunch indicated she had not dodged well enough.

"Hawk!! Robin!" Her mother came rushing over. Robin could barely see, her vision had large splashes of scarlet mixed in. A large gore lay against the wall. Is papa... ok? she croaked out. "What were you thinking?!" her mother bellowed, sending fresh ripples of pain through her head. Her mother wailed in anguish while the triplets remained huddled in the corner, confused. Robin whispered, I picked... lavender, in the storage. Her mother fluttered out and returned quickly, chewing them to prepare a crude poultice. She bent over Robin. Un... came the weak reply, For papa.

"Robin, don't be stupid." Her father groaned as he tentatively sat up. Rest.. for me. Flowers... for papa. Robin curled into the fetal pose. Rest... will be fine.... Her mother nodded understandingly and applied the poultice to her mate, her falling tears blurring her vision. It was a hard choice, but the death of her mate would likely mean the end of the family. 

Robin's father limped over, freshly bandaged, his injuries impeding his walk, and curled up next to her. Robin felt cold, even with his near presence, and thirsty, so very thirsty. Maybe I'll be a good egg, next time. she murmured as she drifted off. "You were already a good egg." were the last words she heard, she drifted off with a smile.

Robin blinked; Dark. Warm. Her mind was fuzzy. Out. She blinked as her coating fell away. "It's hatched! The baby has hatched!" She heard excited chirping as two large brown orys looked down at her.

"She's got your skin."

"She's got your eyes and that stupid red beak."

"Hey! You liked it when were just started dating".

She blinked at these two in surprise and chirped happily. Mom. Dad. These words prickled at her mind, she instinctively knew who they were.

One of the orys picked her up in their mouth and lifted her up to the light of the blue crystal in the center of the room. "Our first kid! What are we going to call her?" The mother placed her in the nest carefully and curled around her.

"Hmm.... I think we'll call her Robin."