Ankyra Sound methought a serpent ate my heart away

where once she lagged behind her siblings, she meets with them every developmental milestone, save one. her interest in the world outside the safety of their den is a fickle, wary thing, and a wheeling gull or distant cry has her motivation dissipate. today, however, is different. the ominous presence of some coastal storm has been building since morning, and there is a stillness imposed on the sound that suits the girl nicely. it is late afternoon, now, and the den is relatively quiet. carefully, creeping, she leaves the warmth behind, pausing once on the threshold and then stepping over. her maw is already parted in a nervous yawn, but she persists and focuses instead on the little rivulet of water that trickles through the clearing. it is new and foreign and therefore she is wary, but she prods the stream with a paw all the same, giggling when the water diverts and rushes instead to the right of her paw. it seeks the sea, but her goal now is to stop it. all her paws in a line ought to do the trick, but she was trouble lining them up with no gaps. she tilts this way and that as she tries to use her legs as a dam, oblivious to the fact that the water can't be stopped. 

Reyes was wondering, what the hell am I doing here (granted, not in that language, or probably any language at all); but he thought of how alienating the world outside had felt. How loud and bright and chaotic it was — perhaps suitable for someone older, but not for the boy, not the way he was now. The feeling of the sand between his toes had not been pleasant. It had hurt him, and he still instinctively pulled his feet close when he thought of that day, however vague the memory became. A tic to carry him through life, maybe.

The cavernous belly that was the shared den of children had become cramped lately, but even with the jostling of those feet against his slumbering form Reyes was less inclined to find solace on the sand or by the sea. The boy had already developed a cynicism to some degree, but maybe he would outgrow it — as he'd outgrown the color of his eyes (they'd shifted to a muddy color for a few days and by now were bright and shining dubloons of gold), or his need for warm milk.

The boy was awake after being kicked hard in the ribs one too many times. Someone moved away from him and left behind a gaping chill, and after squirreling around and seeking that comfort Reyes discovered with a tilt of his ruddy snout there was one less body than usual lining the den. It gave him a moment to sprawl out, pushing at a brother or a sister mercilessly, defiantly, as some kind of retribution. A yawn split his muzzle. Then, unable to get back to sleep quickly enough, he pulled himself to his paws and turned to the den mouth.

The light was inviting, but he knew what was out there. The noise of the tide was enough to keep him planted on the spot — but then he began to lean towards the light, almost as if to reach for it, taste it. He lost his balance and spilled out of the den mouth in to the horrible brightness and squalled like a gull. Those shiny new eyes glimmered beneath the sun and he squinted, wriggled, and sat up enough to catch sight of his missing sibling playing with the water.

No! He barked promptly, parroting the word that he'd heard most often from his mothers; Nnno no no! Up on his feet, racing at Clementine as some kind of bumbling protector — until his paws touched the cold cold cold water and he brayed again, kicking, flailing, falling on his bum with tear-filled eyes. Bahhh!