Blackfeather Woods AHHH! It's demons! Run Jim! Ruuuuun! Ruuuuun!

No one ever remembers the transition from womb to world. The marvelous memory of slipping from shapeless warmth to something more tangible. The moment we take our first earthly breath must be the moment we forget from where we came. And we go on, that time of our development forgotten, only brought to vague memory when a woman carries life of her own within.

It had been a tumultuous stay inside. Unknown to Maegi, or her other siblings, Potema had detested them the entire way, even seeking to expel them from her body. But the children had resisted death, and now came forth, wriggling and writhing in newborn confusion.

It was much colder here than it had been. . .there. Sightless Maegi whined in protest, seeking any sort of heat she could find. Her thin white fur was slick and hot from the birth, yet her body longed for warmth. There were other moving shapes beside her, and she huddled against them, hoping against hope that they would be able to provide her the heat she desperately needed.

And the emotion she'd learn to call hunger rose in her as well, gurgling in her belly. This was unfair! Surely the coziness of the place she once called home was not the last pleasure she would ever feel? The babe, nearly perfect save for one twisted forepaw, cried out a weak, infantile cry, seeking succor in this strange, cold, empty new world.