don't blink

VARUNA The ocean is familiar. You stay by it at all costs, not daring to leave the beach in case mother shows up. Wet sand sticks to your tender baby-skin and rubs it til it's raw; it works its way into every crevice, even sticks in your eyelashes. Still you stay. It feels safer than the dark forest, where shadows swallow you up in confusion and seem to feed on your despair. The wetness is inescapable. It comes down from the sky at all hours, and with it comes a hungry chill that seeps into your bones. You love rain. You are a child of the storms your mother commanded but you are weak and exposed. Tremors race through you, tiring your muscles til they ache. Your knees buckle under you and you collapse without a fight, moonspun lashes blinking away the sleepiness in your mis-matched eyes. Wings a bit too large for your size squeeze against you for what warmth they can muster. You rest your chin on a foreleg and little lungs heave a heavy sigh. You don't care that you're completely exposed to all the forces of this strange land and whatever manner of beast may find you. There is no pillar of strength to hide behind; no zap, hsss of static in your mother's feathers to hush you to sleep like a lullaby; no mighty wings to shield you from the never-ending rain. Your eyelids become heavy, and as your belly cramps and moans, sleep overcomes you, at last. and calm your heart, the dark is still the dark

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