The Sentinels lovecraft

Emaleth remembered her life before this— the life in which she had been carried within the Source, the Father-Mother. She dreamt of it often, and sometimes yearned for it. It had been warmer. More peaceful. Less overwhelming. There were times she felt vibrations quake through the water that held her and her companion in suspension; small little waves that were different than the gentle jostling of their host moving. No. The vibrations she remembered and favored did not move or shift her; they flowed through her like melodies.

She remembered them, but did not know them for voices, for even in the womb she had been deaf and blind. But perhaps they had cast some sort of spell over her, though not one she would ever understand or know, for in a few weeks she would forget that life completely. But she would have a particularly special bond with the being she would come to know as Father.

Still maintaining contact with her pale companion, both for her own comfort and to avoid the squalls that were destined to pierce the small cavern if she did, Emaleth continued to gum at her father's muzzle. Tiny forepaws reached out to join, for something finally registered as different, and rather than cry out as Deirdre might, Emaleth was overcome with curiosity.