Chapter Text
The first thing she ever felt was cold.
Before her eyes even opened the creature was aware of cold, wet blades of grass she was splayed upon, and how they tugged at her fur and stuck to exposed skin in a uniquely unpleasant sensation.
Her first act was to push herself up and shake her head, freeing her ears from the meadow’s grasp and allowing sound to seep into her mind, the howling wind carrying whispers of life from within the trees and beyond the skies.
Her ears flicked and spun, two long leaf shaped appendages twisting this and that way to capture as much as they could. She breathed in, the smell of rain permeating the air. Stray blades of grass stuck to her face and she pawed at them, her hands finding two small, curved horns and two appendages on her forehead that promptly sent a jolt down her spine when found. She didn’t touch them again.
Finally her eyes cracked open, and she saw the endless, roiling tides of green that surrounded her, stretching as far as the eye could see. She saw herself, a small torso with two forelimbs and two hind legs ending in hooves, and a tail that kept her balance as she climbed to her feet.
She saw the endless, scarlet firmament in the distance, a gift of the setting sun that lit up the world and warmed all that lived and stood in it. However, while the sky suggested the sun was not yet gone, the clearing she stood in was cloaked in darkness. A sinking feeling bloomed in her chest, but she tilted her head back and turned her gaze upwards.
She saw her parent, a wooden monolith of unimaginable height covered in layered rings of branches and leaves that stretched towards the horizon, specks of red and fluffy clouds barely visible between its branches. A light shone from its crown, from a place she couldn’t quite see, its radiance serving as a backdrop to the shimmering white leaves that danced through the air on their way to joining her in the earth below.
One reached the ground next to her, and a flash blinded her for a moment. Blinking spots out of her eyes, she witnessed as a small, white furred creature stumbled to its feet, black eyes flicking in all directions as two long antennae on their head twitched wildly.
All around her this scene repeated, hundreds of lives flaring into existence in all matters of shapes and sizes, titans and runts, stout and frail, the field was soon covered by what she somehow understood were her siblings.
None yet spoke, a sacred silence unbroken as new life flooded the land.
The air changed, and a mantle of peace settled upon their shoulders as an unseen force compelled her to look up. The great tree loomed above, a titan of unfathomable size, a source and symbol of life for hundreds of paces around them. The world ceased its song, and light surged as a voice boomed from above.
“My children” , the voice thrummed, “I am the Great Cedar. “
“You are spirits, born from my branches, and you stand upon the Cradle, a clearing carved out and expanded so your first moments could be spent in wonder and peace. Soon, volunteers will step into my shade and begin sorting through all of you.”
She glanced at the edge of the meadow, and saw several creatures waiting by the trees that surrounded the empty fields they were in.
“You will be given food, water and shelter for the coming night. When the sun rises, you must return here to receive your names and duties.” The light wavered and dimmed as the voice grew softer.
“That is all for now. Go and settle yourselves. Take in the world and understand what you can. Tomorrow, I shall explain the rest.
And with that, the voice fell silent, and the creatures at the edges began to carefully make their way to the crowd. Her siblings, seconds ago completely entranced, now glanced nervously at each other and at the encroaching strangers. Some huddled together, the weakest and smallest at the middle surrounded by a circle of sturdier spirits that grew increasingly suspicious as the distance between them and the visitors shrunk.
She did no such thing. She stepped out into the vastness around them and began to head towards the closest treeline, stumbling with unpracticed steps that grew steadier as she walked only to tumble down as her hoof caught on a small rock jutting out of the ground. She picked herself up and continued, gaze glued to the ground to avoid any further surprises.
A group of denizens was about a hundred paces ahead of her, and one of their number promptly detached from the group and began to jog in her direction, their two pairs of arms and massive backpack cutting a distinctive figure as they hurried to meet her halfway.
She glanced back and saw that her siblings were starting to split up as well, with some of the most stubborn groups trying to pull the wanderers back while hissing and muttering words incomprehensible to anyone but themselves.
While their thoughts and concerns were probably perfectly valid, speech was nothing but a series of odd noises that were somehow perfectly coherent to every spirit but nonsense to anything else, so their visitors remained wary and approached slowly.
In fact, she realized, how could they speak at all? Walk? How did she wake up knowing what a field was, or the sky? Shouldn’t a newborn be incapable of paying attention to, let alone comprehend the world around them and simply cry and scream for food and attention? In fact, how did she know that?
Her crisis was brief, but distracting enough that a strong pair of hands had to grasp her shoulders and prevent her from smacking face first into her destination. The colossus smiled down at her, a round, three-eyed face surrounded by a magnificent beard. Their lower pair of arms were on her shoulders, while the upper pair were holding two oddly shaped packages. The smell hit her nose, and her mouth instantly began to water.
“Hello!” said her companion. “I’m Aster. Do you want fruit or fish?”
She chose both, and she dug into the meal as Aster sat down in front of her with a patient smile on his face. Behind her, in the distance, the natives had finally reached the paranoid mound that refused to leave their birthplace by the tree, and were working on breaking them up with offers of food and words she couldn’t quite hear.
Many others had seen her example and set off on their own personal odysseys, alone or in groups, and were also embraced by the visitors.
The sun had finished setting, and the stars beamed down at the world. The greenery came alive with the chirping of crickets, and Aster’s hand on her shoulder offered comfort as taste exploded into her mouth.
The spirit, a speck of white in the endless greenery, shining in the darkness, smiled.
She was alive.