A flock of seagulls accompanied a turtle-sized egg, with their obnoxious squawking as its entourage. Two or three birds could comfortably land, and odd conversation of mews, ha-ha-ha's, and squawks bounced back and forth like old wives gossiping on laundry day by the river while the birds rested their wings.
Once they'd finished the impromptu nattering about. The birds took turns pecking at the egg pausing briefly to see if food would appear. With no results, the birds pushed off the egg, wings wide, to catch air as they sought an easier meal. When the egg popped up, another two or three birds replaced their predecessors and repeated the process.
Nearby, a shark leaped up and caught an unlucky bird before disappearing into the depths. The birds quieted. Eyes glued where the shark dove. A moment of silence passed for their companion before the squawking and chittering littered the air once more.
Just like that, a fortnight went by. The birds would leave the egg for a span at a time, maybe two, but never longer. It was only during a small summer storm that changed the egg's course, pulling it southwest into deeper seas. The birds followed in hopes of a delicious meal but when a serpentine monster gobbled seven of the birds in one go, they abandoned it for safer meals.
Four months passed, and the egg grew, becoming more and more translucent by the week. Gentle rains came and went. The air turned cool and then warmed. However, with that warmth, came summer storms. The egg, now the size of a three-year-old child, sank below the surface and was captured by the Marauder's Current across raging waters to the warm sea of the Azureen coastline. There it reached the end and finally landed within the cradle of the reef.
Another two months passed the turtle-sized egg grew to the size of a child that'd seen five summers. It was now completely translucent, the figure within revealed as curled tightly around itself. All around, little fish darted in and out of boltholes. There was even one that swelled to ghastly proportions, scaring away another before diminishing once more.
Inside the egg, large dark eyes blinked once, twice. She watched the fish live their lives, swimming, fleeing, hiding, and eating. Over and over. A small grey webbed gingerly touched the inside of the egg and pushed. Nothing. With a grimace, she pushed a little hard, this time using both hands and the solidity of the shell at her back to push forward. Worst-case scenario, one side would break and she'd be out. With a grunt, she pushed and nothing happened.
A slow blink. Huh. Well, that was not good. Troubled, she shifted back uncomfortably. When she'd first awoken, she'd been too scared to hatch. The creatures that'd flown all around had pecked at her shell, searching for soft tender flesh. A shudder ran down her spine. She'd thought she would be sick. The darklight had come and gone. Since then, her egg had nestled in this haven, safe from the wide spaces, but not cut off.
More pressing was that the egg had stopped growing, but she had not. She pushed hard, thin arms straining against the shell. Over and over, until the light outside had disappeared. She pressed her head against her tail, uncomfortable, yet tired. She wanted to stop, the need for sleep beginning to her pull her under tugged at her attention. Still, if she stopped now, she may not wake up again. Sleep was unpredictable. Each time she opened her eyes she was different, and lately, she'd been a whole lotta' different.
The girl's dark eyes narrowed and she laid her hands on her shell. She would be stopped here. She was going to get out and touch the sand. Feel the outside on her scales and, and, and… The girl's mind went blank while she focused on her physical efforts. What felt like forever passed and she sagged, her head lolling back to rest awkwardly against the shell. She blinked a couple of times, each one lasting longer and longer as her breathing grew deeper. On the cusp of sweet rest, something caught her attention.
Long had she traveled, and while she had not always been aware, she had been so long enough to watch the world around her change countless times.
From a place so bright it hurt, with creatures that land on her egg and peck at it, then call to others. They take turns jabbing her egg, trying to open it to get to her. Their hunting calls are terrifying. What if they'd broken her egg? She hadn't seen them at the time, but she had heard them. Had felt her egg bob each time one landed and the vibrations from their pecks.
She looked around, might as well check and make sure there were no potential predators around her.
Predator... She cocked her head at the word as she mentally felt her way across the word.
She did not know what a predator looked like. Unbidden, memories of those creatures that had pecked at her egg over and overcame to mind. Predator. She nodded at the rightness of that. Those creatures felt like 'predators.'
Then... What about her? If those creatures were predators, then what was she? The small blue lights in the skull flickered as she mulled it over.
Was she food? The blue lights narrowed before brightening, and the skeletal mermaid slapped her fist on her hand.
The girl grasped at the word and mentally tasted it. Giving the word a few mental whirls as she got a feel for the word. Prey. Unbidden, the image of someone crying for mercy flashed by, too fast for her to get a clear grasp of the situation itself, but slow enough for her to feel what it was like to be helpless before another.