Redsand Canyon Stars are born in litters.

Something of equal mass collided with her, head-first. That is to say, something sat on her face and then with a few flailing kicks, rolled off of her and in to the mud.

The child coughed and began their protest; that was when the sky flared with lighning, and through the thunder's rumble there were voices. It was all noise. Even through the babe's wetted ears (lined with mud now to top it all off) that rumble could be felt, and it was terrifying.

What came next defied all reason. It was useful, then, that these babies were so new to the world that reason and logic didn't exist yet. The ground was there, and then it wasn't. Somehow they were hoisted out of the muck and carried away.

The storm became a distant thing, although the memory of it would persist a while yet.