Counting Crows [Loki Birthing Thread]

Little fetal Cadabra squirmed against his siblings as his tiny world shifted soundlessly around him, throbbing, rolling, and rocking. A time ago, his world was larger. He had more room to move his developing limbs, and, to him, he was a solitary being in an endless sea of warm fluid. But as time went by, he and his siblings grew. Their bodies began to press against his, and he became aware that he was not alone. But his little mind was not yet capable of much thought or emotion, and he regarded his siblings as nothing more than obstacles to his comfort. No attempt to push them away worked, so he resigned to being squeezed in an ever shrinking space.

Rest in this small space he did, until even that small amount of comfort was taken from him. His entire world began squeezing in on him, the walls rippling and pressing down on his tiny body. He pressed his tiny paws forward in protest to the changes happening around him to no avail. Suddenly, one of the bodies next to him disappeared and he was relieved for a moment before the greatest pressure he'd ever experienced squeezed him into a small space and then, finally, nothing. Uncomfortably, nothing.

This new sensation was disturbing. Air, dry and cold in contrast to his previous home, enveloped him. A large, rough blanket of flesh pressed against his back, and he suddenly became aware of a pressure inside his chest. Opening his little mouth, he gasped in his first breath, letting it out with a weak squeal. Though deaf, he felt the vibration in his throat, as well as the pressure in his chest building again. He breathed once more, somehow not used to the idea that this action needed to be done more than once. An object of some sort pushed him in some unknown direction, and his open mouth was met by a teat. Instinct took over, and he clamped down, filling his belly with milk. So involved in feeding was he that he didn't notice the returned presence of the other bodies. But, as he finished feeding, the scents of those around him flooded his nostrils. Perhaps air wasn't so bad. There were no scents in that warm fluid, nor was there milk. And though his siblings lay near him, he could move freely and get comfortable against the warm, milk-giving wall of flesh.

All was well. Shifting into a comfortable position, he slowly stilled, barely aware of his father's tender touch as he drifted off to sleep.



"Speech," "Thought."