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[Haydn ab'Arawn]

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It knew darkness. It knew sound.

In the darkness, the sound had been eternal, as long as it could remember. A constant and steady double thudding, a bit muffled and softened. Always a background comfort, and almost distant, yet very near at the same time.

It did not know many things. Only that for some time now, it had lain curled up, in this ever-tightening fluid-filled place. Lately, it had been extremely confined, and the area that housed it kept diminishing. It had known that it would be squeezed to death if it did not do something, soon.

And now, that time had come.

It did not know the precise moment that the sound of the thudding had grown louder, and the rhythm of the pulse was faster. It only knew that something was wrong. The soft, wet walls of it's space were squeezing now, tightly.

It gasped, gulping down quantities of the usually warm and comforting fluid that surrounded it, and realized that the taste was different. There was a an unknown metallic quality to it. In the dim light, it opened its eyes and gazed ahead. The faded light it usually saw was no longer pinkish, it was a dark red. Of course it did not know the names for colors, but it did realize that something was terribly wrong.

It knew a moment of panic, as another tight squeeze made its way around it. If this kept up, it would surely die. It had to do something.

So it did the only thing it could do in so confined a space. It squirmed. As it squirmed it noticed two things. The movement had brought one of its appendages to rub against the walls of its confinement. It had also caused a sharp, piercing scream from someplace distant. It squirmed again, to move its head a bit and gaze in the direction of its appendage.

It learned it had sharp things at the end of its appendage. What's more, it had two of these appendages. The sharp things had created an opening in the wall of the space. There was hope of escape.

Another contraction of the walls rumbled over it, even tighter than the last. Panic set in, and the struggle for survival ensued. To live, it must make the opening larger, so it could fit through. It began to squirm, frantically.

Its sharpened ends scratched against the walls, tearing more and more of the softness it had known for so long. The distant screaming increased. It had no concept of the time that passed as it made its slow progress. It only knew when the opening became large enough to fit through, because it began to feel the cold air against its skin.

This was new to it, and it hesitated at first. But the rumbling squeeze of the next contraction gave it no choice. It even helped to usher it into the cold air. It was pushed from the womb through its own carved opening, and came to lie upon its now flattened prior confines. It coughed and sputtered, gasping for the now precious fluid by which it had drawn air and sustenance from. It breathed air for the first time.

Slowly, it sat up on the cushion of shredded flesh and blood that it had escaped from, it gave a first glance at its new surroundings. Stretching its appendages for the first time, and yes now it could see all four of them, it blinked at the brightness of the place. It turned its head. It waved its arms. It opened its mouth and made a noise. Its own noise. And then it realized it could hear the comforting thudding no more.

Glancing down to where it had come from, it realized there was more to its previous home than had seemed. Its gaze traveled up the length of two appendages that closely resembled its own. At last, it looked upon a face. A face that did not move, but with two eyes that stared emptily upward. It was no longer screaming or thudding, not moving at all. It knew that whatever this being was, it had not survived the terrible squeezing.

It shuddered and lay back down on the quickly cooling wet mess. A noise sounded somewhere in the distance, as it lay there. Idly it wondered what that noise may have been, but truthfully it did not care. It was having flashes of realization.

As it stared at the ceiling, epiphany struck, and it knew that it was not simply it. It was alive, and it was female. It had self.

She might have lain there forever, had not a familiar sound come across the air.

"You are arrived. And it looks as if Maelwyn did not survive the... what the.. ?"

The sound of the voice trailed into quietude as it grew closer. A face came into view.

"You clawed your way out?"

She lay there, gazing at this new face, not responding. The figure extended its appendages and lifted her for closer examination. She didn't mind. She actually enjoyed this contact.

"I shall call you Haydn," the figure said, and then she felt a connection with this being. In some way, this figure mattered to her, greatly. And she knew she had been given identity.

I am Haydn, Haydn is me.

[NightShade]

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Wisteria woke screaming her body convulsing wildly as she shuddered mindlessly clutching at the bedsheets.

Her terror was great and she spoke awful things in languages unknown to even her. Toren sat up quickly grasping the violently thrashing female, lest she hurt the babes.

He called her name over and over but her eyes were rolled back in her head and he began to wonder if death was upon her. Drawing her close into the circle of his arms she began to still the thrashings growing quiet and her eyes of violet snapping back to normal.

Great sobs shook her body and she rested her head softly on his shoulder whispering over and over....

Lord Oaks has forsaken us, shes dead, shes dead...
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...