Tossed Out

The first thing he remembered was being moved around, shuffling around in his eggshell. He didn’t know at the time, but it was his mother, rearranging the eggs in her nest. The eggs were close to hatching, so she was naturally anxious, wanting everything to be just so when her new babies made their way into the world.

But one thing bothered her more than anything else, and that was this egg in particular.

It was a strange shape. Too round and circular, not oval-shaped like the others. And it was only half the size of the others. She worried that it was a bad omen, a poor portent for the fate of the rest of her hatchlings.

So in an impulsive fit of neuroticism, she flipped the egg right out of the nest and sent it tumbling down the hillside and into the marshes below.

The egg rolled and rolled until it came to a stop with a hard thunk as it collided with a tree. He struggled to remember which way was “up” and which was “down” after all the bouncing around.

Luckily, the collision had made a spiderweb of cracks appear on the egg, letting small but blinding beams of sunlight through. Drawn in by the glow, he wriggled his limbs toward it, and prodded the cracks with his little egg tooth.

Slowly but surely, she broke his snout through, then his head, and then his long neck. He blinked rapidly to get used to the brightness—it was a rather dreary, overcast day, and the canopy overhead only obscured the light further, but to his newborn eyes, it was the brightest day he had ever seen. On shaky legs, he made his way to the water and peered in, catching his own reflection. His fluffy baby feathers were the same hue as the water, and his skin pale as the little flowers blooming nearby. His eyes shone orange like the sun he had yet to see.

The world was alive with croaking frogs and buzzing insects, and the constant sound of water dripping down from leaves and into the mossy bed his egg laid in.

But another sound met his ears; the sound of water, not just moving, but being moved—somewhere, something was swimming through the swamp.

The little raptor wasn’t scared at all by the noise; in fact, he jumped into the water as fast as he could so he could get a better look. When he did, he discovered it was very deep. Even an adult utahraptor would have had trouble with it, and the poor hatchling was fully submerged. Limbs flailing around in a panic, he managed to thrash his way onto relatively dry land again, and he shook himself off furiously. Water clung to his downy baby feathers, and he began to shiver violently.

He was so distracted by his own splashing that he didn’t realize the sound was growing louder and louder.

Suddenly, just ahead of him, he saw several shapes moving through the swamp. He edged as close to the shore as he dared, straining for a better look, his frozen feathers losing out to his curiosity.

He didn’t know the word yet, but it was a float of suchomimuses. They were hatchlings, too, but they easily dwarfed the baby raptor. And it looked like he’d caught them in the middle of an argument. Two of them were ganging up on the third, their long jaws snapping, punctuated by warbling bellows that would one day mature into threatening growls. The third put up a good fight, dipping in and out from the water’s surface to evade them, but she was outnumbered. With the other two still in pursuit, she shot towards the shore, near the raptor, and clambered up onto the bank. She hissed at her pursuers, but it was clear that they all knew that she’d been the loser, forced to make a hasty retreat. The pair swam off, laughing, calling her—Swavelli—names as they went.

The lone suchomimus watched them go, her claws flexing irritably. The raptor wondered who those two had been, and if she’d just been kicked from her nest, too.

He chirped to get her attention. Her head snapped towards him immediately. Her amber eyes were blazing. They looked a lot like his own.

“What do you want?” she snapped. “Are you going to laugh at me too?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she trudged up the hill.

The raptor was undeterred. Tumbling over tree roots, he followed after her, taking big steps on his wobbly legs just to keep up with her. The cold was getting to him again. The baby feathers that were meant to trap warmth instead trapped the water, and it made his enthusiastic trot slow to a sluggish crawl, until he was shivering so much he couldn’t stand anymore.

Swavelli disappeared from sight, not looking back to see if he was still following. The little raptor was all alone again.

He curled into a little ball as the day grew darker. The many noises of the swamp suddenly felt eerie rather than inviting. Strange birds hooted and dinosaurs roared in the distance. And the ground was so wet that he didn’t dry off at all.

And suddenly, someone curled around him, and started to lick the wetness off of his feathers.

The raptor opened a sunny eye to see it was Swavelli. He chirruped in gratitude, but the noise came out so quietly that he wasn’t sure if she heard it. So the two sat in silence for some time as warmth slowly made its way into his body again.

“You little dummy,” she murmured, though she looked more tired than agitated now. “You should be with your mama.”

The raptor blinked at her.

She studied him, working her jaw. “I guess you’re like me, then. Got nobody.”

Seeing as he was dry now, she laid her long head on the ground. The raptor unfurled and mimicked her.

“So, do you have a name, or…”

The raptor had never spoken before, but he was prepared. “Seff-uh!” he said proudly.

Swavelli scrunched up her nose. “Seffe? What kind of a name is that?”

“Like yours!”

She stared at him. Seffe just moved closer to her. “You’re so… weird.” But she didn’t push him back.

“I want to get out of this swamp, Seffe,” she said quietly after some more time silent. “I hate the muck, and the darkness… and my stupid siblings…”

Seffe hummed his agreement. The place was rather dark and lonely.

“I hear that if you follow the sunset, there’s a place where the water sparkles and the ground is firm and grainy under your feet. The fish are so big you can live off of one for days.” She turned her gaze to him, a conspiratorial spark in her eyes. “The ocean. That’s where I’m going.”

She didn’t ask him, but Seffe knew he was going with her. And when she got up and headed towards the light coming through the trees, she didn’t stop him from weaving around her feet as they went.