Shaky Start

With the gentle prodding of his mother, Burdock was nudged out of the nest he had been born in. He was the last to hatch, the last to rise and the last to head out each morning, even with his parents encouraging him. The hatchling Carno yawned, rubbing his face against the rocks to wipe the sleep from his eyes and blinked wearily in the morning light.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” Boba cooed, “your siblings are already up and about.”

“They can, I don't have to,” Burdock grumbled, kicking at the dirt. Boba leaned down to nudge him again, her flat head bumping him along another few steps. The feathery Carno felt bad about focusing so much of her time on just one of her hatchlings, but she felt like Burdock really needed the attention. Her most lackadaisical son seemed to have been born without his survival instincts, peaceful to a point of inaction. The little spotted Carno sighed and trudged down to the river for his first drink off the day, his mother following at a distance. She watched as he dipped his face into the stream, tipped his head back and let the cold water chill his stomach. He grimaced at the shiver that ran through him but the cold was beginning to do its job, waking him up from the cozy stupor that had gripped him for most of the morning. He didn't know how his siblings managed to rise and shine, he felt very much like he was flat and dull every morning. His mothers were both concerned about it, worried he would never be able to live by himself and from their anxiety he was beginning to worry too.

As far as Burdock knew, a Carno had to learn to be self-sufficient at an early age. Most of their kind lived alone and the idea of him providing for himself seemed to be laughable. It was necessary to get up, find water and hunt for himself, so then why did he find it so difficult? Had he been born broken? Was he just lacking the natural drive that kept his ancestors alive and he was doomed to fail? They were heavy thoughts for a mind so young, and the more he thought them the more exhausted and immobile he felt. Was it even worth getting up every morning when he was destined to be a footnote of failure in his family history? He trudged back to where Boba was trying to watch him inconspicuously and looked up at her, his little eyes watering.

"Mama? What's wrong with me?" he asked, voice trembling. Boba's heart broke, worried she had pushed him too far, and been too blasé about his issues. Maybe he was sick and she had been expecting too much of a frail body. Now, here he was, aware of how different he was being treated and needing to know why. The problem was she didn't know why either, she had never had a hatchling with Burdock's kind of difficulties before and she was learning as she was going.

"I don't know, my poor baby," she said finally, "But I want to help you, I just don't know how to do that yet. I can only teach you what I've taught your siblings and hope it's enough to help." Burdock looked reticent, looking down at the ground and refusing to meet her eyes again. 

"Should I leave?" he asked, startling her, "I have to leave and be on my own, I should go now, right?" 

"Not at all! Is this what's been worrying you?" Boba exclaimed, leaning down so she was at eye level with her hatchling, "Burdock, you don't have to leave until you're ready! You can leave bit by bit if you want! Come back and visit, let me and your mama take care of you for a little bit if you're struggling." The little hatchling finally looked up at her, his expression one of complete disbelief.

"I don't have to do it all at once?" he asked quietly, crying now.

"Of course not, we want you to be able to take care of yourself but if it takes you a little longer than the others to do that then that's okay," Boba soothed him, "That's what me and your mama are for, to care for you while you're learning, to help you grow big and strong until you can look after yourself without help."

"What if I always need help?" Burdock asked through messy hiccuping tears.

"Then we'll always help you," Boba replied firmly, "That's what parents are for, if you need help we'll help you." When his crying eventually calmed, Burdock cleared his throat and tried to speak again.

"I want to learn," he said, "but I'm so tired all the time, it feels like I'm so heavy and I can't move." Boba frowned a little.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" she asked gently, but her hatchling shook his head, "If you're tired all the time, even with all the time you sleep, maybe we can find something to give you more energy." Burdock perked up a little at that.

"What can do that?" he asked.

"There's a plant called ginseng, I can teach you how to find it, a lot of herbivores say it gives them a little boost but I don't know if it works for carnivores too." She saw Burdock droop a little and hurried to continue. "But we can ask around! We'll cross those bridges when we get to them, Burdock, and you won't have to do it on your own." He sniffled a little, kicking at the dirt again.

"Can we go see mama and the others?" he asked tentatively. Boba barely restrained a relieved sigh.

"Of course we can, let's go see where they ended up today!" She leaned down and scooped the squealing hatchling onto her head. She kept her pace steady to avoid him falling off and felt his little claws gripping tightly. He wasn't entirely without natural instincts, she reassured herself, he would be fine in the end.