I short piece I wrote based on this artwork by the talented  covencorvid, made for  the_character_consultancy's upcoming vid on me!

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The world began as a blur.

He reached out a hand to press up against the wall of the world, but it would not give. He struck at it, weakly at first. Still to no avail. Everything was so dark in here. Something in the back of his mind told him it wasn't quite right, but he could have no way of knowing what. He knew a few things, though. He remembered, vaguely, hearing words from beyond the walls. Many that he couldn't quite think of, but one that was repeated many times to him.

Arix.

He knew that there was something more beyond this dark wall. And he knew that he was ravenously hungry. He knew he wanted to break the wall. He knew he wanted something from the other side. He balled his claw into a fist and struck out at it again. He lowered his head, tapping against the wall with the horns protruding from his skull. He tried again, harder. And harder. And then he was rewarded with the sound of a crack.

Suddenly, the world was not so dark anymore. A flood of light hit his eyes, forcing them shut. But he kept striking the wall. Once the first chip had fallen away, the rest came easier. More and more of the wall fell away, letting in more and more light. It burned his eyes, even through his closed lids, but he wanted to be out! He needed to be free!

With one final strike, the wall all fell away. His momentum carried him out of the world, tumbling down and onto the land below. It was some time before he felt like he could open his eyes, more before his eyes adjusted and the vague blur of colours and shapes coalesced into a picture that made sense. Gathering his limbs, he climbed to the edge of the nest he had found himself on. He was high up, very high up, surrounded on all sides by rocky peaks and towering pines. It was far colder here than it was when he was enclosed by the wall. Louder, as well, though no sounds he could understand.

He could make out a few finer shapes, now. Rodents swiftly leaping up the trees, birds diving down and soaring back up with a fresh meal of fish. But what caught his eye more than any was another like him. It was far off, but it soared among the birds, lit by a faint glow from the sun. He saw it hold back for a brief moment, before it came crashing down upon one of the birds. He heard a dying screech from the distance, then the other hatchling carried it away. It was a very sudden reminder of his own hunger. He stepped back, opened his own wings almost without even noticing, and ran ahead. He leaned forward, and jumped into the air.

The ground quickly rose to meet him.

He yelped in pain as he collapsed back down to the nest. He didn't fall far. He didn't make it high enough to. His egg was barely a few steps away. It was only when he looked back at it that he noticed that there were others there, too. There were more broken shells of hatchlings who had already emerged and fled, but there were still others yet unhatched. He crawled back to the broken shells. Strange. They were shimmering, shining things. As he tilted his head and saw the shells catch the light of the sun, they seemed to flash with a colourful sheen. Except...except his. That must have been what was wrong. Why it was so dark. His egg, for whatever reason, did not seem to shine.

He was pulled from the thought by another cracking sound. Another of the eggs was breaking away. It was not chip after chip, but a single crack forming in the shell, before it broke apart, and another hatchling spilled out. It looked much like him, save for its shorter muzzle, curled horns, and white colouring. The new hatchling didn't pay him any mind. It was as though it didn't even see him. Instead, it picked itself up, shook itself, and beat its wings. It moved by him without paying him any heed.

The red hatchling let out a weak chirp to catch the white's attention, but it didn't seem to even notice. It moved forward just as he had, jumped up just as he had, and spread its wings, just as he had. And before he knew it, the white one was gone, soaring off into the distance. He crawled to the edge of the mountain bluff, feebly reaching out to the white and calling to it again. But it did not return. He watched helplessly it as it quicky vanished into the trees, a trail of shimmering light subtly weaving around its wings.

Growling, the red stepped back, opened his wings, and tried again to leap up. He again came crashing back down on the nest. He didn't understand. He certainly had wings. He could feel them. Looking over his shoulder, he could see them. He could stretch them, beat them, feel the wind beneath them. They were no smaller or weaker than those of the white. Such magnificent things they were, in the mind of a hatchling.

So why wouldn't they work?

There were more cracking sounds from the nest behind him. More hatchlings begun to crawl free from their prisons. The red tried to gain their attention. He reached out towards them, calling out with a low rasp. But like the white, they didn't notice him. They didn't notice each other, either. Each one was lost in its own world, focused only on the wind. They all approached the edge of the nest, opened their wings. Gritting his teeth, the red growled, deep and loud as he could manage. He opened his wings, beating them once in an attempt to call attention to himself.

But they were gone.

The red looked back at the nest. All the eggs were broken, now. All the hatchlings were gone. He was left alone, alone with the empty shells, all shining with that subtle light...all except one. Something was wrong with that one. He crawled over the shards of eggshell that now littered the nest, to the dull grey prison from which he had emerged. This one. It was broken.

He looked back down at the lands below. There was no sign of any of them left. None of them were coming back for him. He growled and moved to the other side of the nest, where a steep hill descended into a thick copse. He may not be able to find his food like the others, but surely something must be down there. Carefully testing his footing, he started his way on the path down.