For a long time, he simply is.
There is a sense of loss, a sense of loneliness, but it is mollified by instinct and animal thought and Mother. A different Mother, one who wraps him up tight and holds onto him until such a time as he is ready to be born anew.
But Mother, she is sick, and she is dying. Her heart was never the kindest, but it was never hateful, not until a visitor came and he was pushed out, out, out. At the time he thought little of it. Just that he had to keep doing what instinct told him to do.
And instinct brought him to savagery, then fascination. A fascination. He watches a new visitor. The opposite of the other. A light. She is a walking light. She speaks and it tickles something in the back of his basest mind. Awakens a desire in him to… to… something.
He wanted something once.
A long time ago.
Something he couldn’t have.
But now, here… watching her. He has it.
