Bearclaw Valley nereus ⊕

The tumbling turtle boy had finally found his feet, although the terrestrial lifestyle did not agree with him nearly as well as one might hope.

He was still young, barely managing to stand and balance, and he was aware of his toes but not how to use them; they wriggled at the ends of his pale stumpy limbs. It had been easier in his dreams when he'd had fins to float and fly.

Better to listen to the undulation of the everdark around him than squint in to the dusty light or feel the swarming warmth that penetrated deep in to the den. But he would struggle, and he would teeter, drag against the den wall and tumble, smacking his chin with a click of his wet gums; he would not cry.

Above all, he would never, ever cry.