Colony Tracker: Mini's StorkiesPrompt:Awareness only comes about slowly. The realisation that one is seeing nothing rather than not seeing at all.
It's incredibly dark, and the darkness feels strangely familiar. Scurrying around in tunnels? Always hungry and hoping for a brief glimpse of sunlight, the world above only a story filled with hopes and dreams.
There are rules down here. Strict punishment for those who disobey. But it is a tight community. They need to be when everything is working against them and all is for the greater good.
They eat anything they can find, and are prepared for anything. The tunnels are dangerous, but they are home.
But they arent
in the tunnels. Its too dry, too lacking the muddy mineral smells that were inescapable. The creaking of stone and rumbling of things best left alone was absent too.
It was silent. And not a scent filled the air.
There was Nothing. So much lacking of senses that it became something in of itself.
What was it? Where was here?
It was all that they could remember. It was the only place they had ever been.
They had never been in a tunnel. It was a shadowy feeling in their mind. Something and yet any focus on it made it slip further away. What colour were the stones? How did a colour even look? How did it feel?
They knew these things. Felt them. But they weren't here and they weren't now. How could they really be real?
Only now was real.
They stood, moving forward. Or backwards. There was no directions, not when there was nothing to orient with. There wasn't a curved wall of a tunnel to guide. Nor a single flicker of light. But they moved anyway, putting paw after paw one after each other. They couldn't see their paws, and didn't truly know if they were there. But they could imagine them, rely on muscle memory without any muscles.
What did that make them? Determined? Unwilling to give up and sit down forever in the strangely reassuring nothingness.
Or foolish? Naive. Hoping for something that didn't exist. Hoping for a Something.
They wanted to hope. They grinned ferally, rebellious against the Nothing. They would hope that there was Something that they could reach, even if it was futile.
It was the first thing they had properly felt since they had gained their awareness here. An expression and emotion of rebelliousness, a smile to let the Nothing know it couldnt beat them down.
A smile.
A kitten's first grin up at them. Fondness, familial love. Their offspring?
They had to hide. But a moment could be taken, stolen. A comfort.
The vision faded.
They moved faster. For the first time they heard something within the Nothing. It was a sense to their ears, ones they couldn't quite feel. Couldn't quite move yet but they existed and they heard.
It sounded low, rumbling.
The growl of a lion. No, a sabertooth. Giant and red and angry at them. She was always angry, at least at them. It wasn't the first time- after all they had been siblings a long time. And they were often one to get themselves in trouble. Doing things that such a stickler for rules didn't appreciate. She should relax a little. Take things as they came and put themselves first.
It was important to put yourself first sometimes.
It wasn't selfish.
It was comforting. Simpler.
Just lay down for a bit. Relax. Let others do the work.
…
No! No. Awareness. Determination. They would not become part of the Nothing.
They were more than that. A Something of some sort.
They very much wanted to be something.
It was getting brighter. Like sunrises.
They shook their head. Here, and now, was more important. They couldn't get caught up in the past.
But the sunrises only got brighter. A new age. A rebellion. They were different this time. They could feel their body, large and powerful. Their head was heavy, both with the horns that adorned them and the guilt. They had forsaken their family. Their mother had gone mad, and their sister cruel and manipulative.
The two had needed to leave, but they had been family.
Now there was broken pieces to pick up. Injuries and missing individuals who never should have come to harm. Their heart needed fixing too. But it could wait, couldn't it? They needed to put others first.
Always put others first.
But weren't they selfish?
A pile of gold, and crates of valuable fish. They were a kingpin of criminality. The cream of the crop with fur to match. Pitch black fur adorning their neck.
They were someone else.
Purple underground, small and delicate and ready to die for the family.
They were multiple?
They growled to the nothingness. To themselves.
They didn't want to be multiple. They didn't want these false flashes of things that were not themselves. They didn't want a past that couldn't be changed. They didn't want the things of old.
They wanted to be new.
To be themselves.
It was getting brighter. Fiery oranges. They stared into the light even as it started to get uncomfortable. To become burning.
They embraced the feeling. It was fighting against them. And they were determined to win. To escape this awful place.
“I will not break.” They yowled at the void. The void rumbled back. Its insistence on returning to calm and quiet growing stronger. They only stepped forward, fur rustling in the faux wind.
“I will not give in.” Not to the swirling feelings of the past. Not to the nothingness. A tunnel crumbled behind them, a sister turned against them, a war between those that should not fight.
“LET ME GO!”
----
Pressure from every side. A rushing roaring sound. Cold, freezing and soaking wet down through their fur down to the skin. But their eyes are open and there's a deep dark blue surrounding them. Colour. Temperature. Reality? They can't breathe, air quickly running out and they kick in whatever direction they can until they push off gravel and mud. Pushing them towards the surface.
The air is brilliant. So fresh and breezy and overwhelmingly real. They heave in breath after breath and laugh in joy.
They did it.
Free and real and themselves.
They are still floating down the river. Their legs paddling softly in the stream. It doesn't seem so scary now that its not trying to drown them. It's just flowing down its usual path, watering a brilliant forest as it goes.
So brilliantly complex and green. Huge trees larger than they had seen before, branches extending towards the sky like they supported it. They had forgotten how varied and complex the trunks could be, Bark with rivets like a maze, the smell of sap oozing from damage caused by the calling and singing birds and insects.
The birds dance and flit around, and they gaze at them in awe. How light and weightless they must be to spin and turn like the air itself is water. The birds are colourful, and loud, unafraid of the figure floating down so far below them.
They are so busy gazing around them at everything that they almost float into a series of rocks. As it is they hit their hip against one, before quickly scrambling onto the muddy banks. It's a bit slippery, and the plants are overgrown and tangled. Their hip aches still and they glance down at it, making sure they aren't hurt too badly, even though it only just feels like a light bruise forming.
Their fur is pitch black and it makes their throat catch for a moment. It doesn't look like normal dark fur, which would change in the light, dappled through the branches. It looks like the Nothingness.
They get up again, staring into the bubbling brook. Their reflection ripples but they cannot see their eyes.
They can see, they must
have eyes right?
Right?
They have better things to do than worry. Its fine. Maybe. Probably.
(Denial?) they wonder briefly before denying that too.
The grass has sticky seedheads and by the time they force themselves through it it has formed clumps of their fur. It almost makes them want to return to the stream to wash off but it would simply defeat the purpose of the entire trip.
They climb up a tree, claws in the complex bark. It rips in some places and the smell of sap invades their nose. It makes a little guilt curl in them, akin to the plant's blood. They stare at the birds, a tasty and nutritious snack and yet they know they can't do it. Not right now. Something about watching them leave this realm reminds them too much of the Nothing.
Instead they spy a fruit on the next tree just out of reach. Crouching low they prepare to jump. It's on a thick branch, should easily enough hold their weight. Especially as it looks healthy.
They jump. And plumet, missing the branch by an embarrassing distance. They yowl out, panicked as different sharp and scary looking branches whip past faster and faster. A bird flies past, its chirping now mocking. And, with a final thump they hit the ground.
----
Awareness comes around quickly. Theres someone talking far too loud to another, and the sounds of the conversation grate against them. They grumble a bit, turning over to curl up tighter. It only makes their body ache more. Theres a rustle of sound, far closer than those talking in the distance.
"Are you awake?" A soft voice asked. They peeked at the voice. It belonged to a reddish furred feline, white swirls dancing in delicate patterns. She had striking turquiose eyes, gentle even as she noticed that they were in fact awake. "I'll take that as a yes."
She crouches down, paws hovering just above their pelt for a moment, before they nod and she presses down gentle. It hurts but quickly soothes, at least a tiny bit. Magic?
"My name's Amola. What's your name?" She enquires, a slight bounce in her step as she goes to gather various herbs and glance out the door. Its only now that They look around the small hut properly. Its rather modest, but decorates with bright colours and scents. Theres various objects around that They can't identify but seem to be related to playing and creating music.
They are only really distracting themselves from the question though. A name. They knew they had had names, that they should have one now. The memories threatened to return, to try to make them take on one of their own but they refused. Stubborn. Determined. They needed a name. But it was something that would define them. Something that they would be known by. By themselves they hadnt truly needed one, there was no one else to think of them as anything.
To take a name would be to shake off the Nothing completely.
They werent quite ready for that. They needed to do something first.
"I havent earnt one yet." They sad, turning away as Amola tutted.
"You dont have to earn a name, at least not here. You deserve one, as a individual." She tried to explain, obviously going for reasurring but missing the mark. They couldnt help but disagree.
"No, theres-" They pulled themselves to their feet dispite the residual pain and Amola's frantic buzzing around him. "Ive got to."
"Will you stay?" She asked after a moment. "Its dangerous out there alone, we are stronger with numbers."
Stronger in numbers, but numbers also leads to trust, dishonesty, love, hearbreak, fights, getting hurt. It was what had lead to past lives downfall.
But so had a lone wolf life style. It was the worst of all. To live and die all alone.
"Fine. Take me to whatever counts as your leader."
