Dig, dig, dig a tunnel

 Rain has never been Callio’s favorite, she knows that with all the confidence a little hatchling who’s only seen the moon, sun, and stars for less days than she has toes. The droplets seep into her feathery coat and trickles into her nostrils eyes causing frequent sneezing and head shakes to clear them. Angrily, she glares up at the bare canopy wishing the scarce leaves would grow abundant spontaneously and offer her much needed shelter. No surprise they didn’t, but her little heart and imagination hoped momentarily. This night in particular is cool, desperate for warmth and to avoid the breeze Callio presses closely into the trunk ignoring the stabbing bark that has begun splintering and with heavy-lidded eyes drifts into a fitful slumber.

  Hauntings plague her mind, hazy images of panic, stampeding, shouting- angry, scared, the voices incomprehensible to Callio’s memory but she can feel the fear in the air. Her dreamscape roils with uncertainty and anxiety causing her to twitch in her sleep as her whimpers are drowned out by the cracking thunder above. Her head pulses with dull phantom pain aches while invisible scratches sting her hide as she tumbles and tumbles through a blackened void. Callio startles awake as her dreamself collides with whatever was waiting for her at the bottom of that pitch well. Dark brown eyes frantically search the landscape, now draped in pale misty dawn light as both the night and storm have passed. Memories of what happened before she was alone have chased her relentlessly but she can’t rightfully recall most things. They remain a blur and her young mind has a hard time focusing on it in the light of day; even now as her befuddled mind begins refocusing realizing where she was, the dream drifts away.

   Callio pushes herself to her feet, her soaked feathers making her feel as if she ate the tree instead of sleeping by it. Futilely she gives her body an almost violent shake, spraying the trunk and surrounding grass with the excess water. She was only moderately lighter and that brought out a grumble from the little styraco hatchling. A growling stomach and an urge to move pushed her to do so, she felt antsy staying in one place out here in the wider sections of the forest. She has begun growing tired of the constant travelling, she wanted some more sleep without being scared of the shadows. Her lack of experience and knowledge is telling, she’s uncertain what to do and only keeps going from food source to food source, from one pitiful tree shelter to the next. This has gone on for days now and something was going to have to change.

    Adrift, Callio wanders cautiously through the ferns and brambles, being careful not to get tangled in any lowlying vegetation, her nostrils flaring as she takes in the scents of the forest in search for not only food but danger. Not that she would know what danger smells like, rather something deep in her gut whispers silently to smell, listen, and watch so with no other teacher she did just that. Her nose eventually brought her towards a cache of sweet smelling fruits, they are half-eaten and closer to rotting than fresh but she gladly devours them.

   A small thump, quiet, barely audible, but Callio hears it and freezes. Her eyes snap towards a dark hole beneath the roots of a nearby tree and she holds her breath, unable to move, fruit juices dripping from her mouth as she refuses to even swallow the piece between her jaws. Slowly, a small fuzzy brown creature emerges from the hole, it’s overly long ears perk and twist as it stands on two hind legs watching Callio much in the way Callio watched it. Wary, uncertain, with a tinge of curiosity. Eventually it hops forward once, twice, Callio couldn’t move her body was frozen in place. Is this creature going to eat her? Attack her? Does it have a pack? She should run, wait will it chase if she runs? The hatchling’s thoughts raced as this creature with it’s twitching nose and whiskers finally made it up to her, reaching it’s neck out to gingerly sniff Callio’s flank. The contact, though subtly and something she could barely feel through her feathers, sparked movement in her. She instinctively reacted slamming her crest into the side of the creature’s head earning a panicked squeak of alarm- followed by Callio’s own shocked cry. Reacting much like Callio had through pure instinct the fuzzy creature slammed it’s overly large hind feet into Callio’s shoulder, her fragile build and the creature’s surprising strength sent her sprawling into the soil and grass. Callio frantically scrambles to her feet only to see instead of her being attacked the creature bolts for the hole between the roots, disappearing into the shadows.

   Curiosity overcomes Callio’s fright as she walks as quietly and softly as possible towards the hole. It takes her eyes some time to adjust but upon glancing within she sees a tunnel that stretches further beneath the surface. Inside she can smell more of these fuzzy beasts which makes her retreat quickly. The last thing she needs is for these things to retaliate. Running back to the pile of fruit she shoves as much as she can into her mouth before fleeing the sight. While that experience was terrifying as she puts space between herself and the creatures and her heart begins to settle she wonders about that tunnel. The stench of those things was prominent within them, as if they lived there. She never thought about living in the ground before, she never knew you even could, but to her small mind something about the idea felt comforting, safe. Could she live in the ground like those creatures? The tunnel wasn’t big enough for her to fit well into but could she find one that did? Or maybe make a bigger hole?

    Callio stops in her tracks, glancing behind her as she thinks over the problem- it doesn’t take long. “It’s a hole in the ground, I can dig- digging is simple.” Callio says to herself almost choking on the fruit she forgot was in her mouth and quickly spat it out. She isn’t about to let it go to waste though and instead properly devoured it, coming to a decision in the process. She was tired of running around all the time and wanted a good place to sleep and maybe wait to see if others like her showed up. That means she needs a safe place to do that and a dark little hole sounded like a really good place, after all it was definitely dry. Rain can get through stupid leaves but not the ground, Callio thought with the confidence of an inexperienced hatchling. Purpose fueling her, and some old fruit, Callio bounds off to find a suitable place to make her home.

    This suitable place took a lot more tries than Callio would’ve liked to find. At first she tried, and failed miserably, to just start digging where the soil was loose. It was a lot harder than she thought it was going to be and quickly learned that you can’t just dig a hole. Her first attempt was a small dip in the ground before she hit roots. Second she managed to dig deeper and just as she was about to start digging through the side one half of the bowl she created collapsed forcing her to dig her lower half out of a pile of soil. Her feathers are going to be dirty for weeks. At one point she managed to dig a bit deeper, she learned to dig at a slant and after the divot was made she wanted to make the tunnel. That’s when things failed once more, the tunnel to her bewilderment just collapsed on her. She tried multiple times but to no avail and was growing increasingly frustrated by the task. For a wild moment she thought about fighting the fuzzy creatures for their home and just making it bigger, but only for a moment as a spike of fear ended the anger-fueled thoughts. No way was she about to fight the horde of big eared monsters. She’ll just have to keep trying.

   Her time and energy is rewarded on her second day of attempts. She had the bright idea last night between fitful bouts of rest to stop digging out in random spots and instead copy the fuzzy monsters and dig by some roots. This too had its failed attempts, most of the time the roots actually prevented her from digging at all and she was not yet strong enough to tear the thick plant material away. Through determination she persevered and found the perfect spot. An old tree who’s top half was missing and a large stump is all that remains. Its peeled bark is dark with age and smoothed from the weather, its thick tangle of roots lay mostly on the surface partially pulled upward thanks to raging storms and strong winds. Callio didn’t think this would be a good spot at first, but the arch created by the roots making a small den within offered at the very least a starting point. Crawling beneath Callio begins to dig. The soil is firmer and tough to push through, the hatchling begins panting quickly and collapses into a heap after long periods of labor. The beginning of the hole though is promising, the roof has yet to collapse and the walls hold steady as she packs in the dirt she digs up to the sides. She has to make frequent trips shoveling and kicking the dirt out haphazardly to avoid clogging up the spaces she makes.

   With the small den now burrowed out comes the real test. Callio gulps, staring at the back wall, while she doesn’t need a tunnel and has plenty of space with the den she dug out and the naturally formed hole by the stumps roots, she wants one just in case. What if something tries to squeeze in after her like she almost did to the fuzzy creature? If she has a little tunnel she can retreat into safety where nothing can reach her in the dark. Worry about it collapsing and trapping her though causes her to hesitate and it takes no small amount of will power to begin carving a new section into the deepest wall. Like before the soil is tough and firm, she puts her entire back into shoveling the dirt, ramming her dull nasal horn to carve gashes into it as her front feet dig the loosened rubble away. The hole begins getting deeper, wider, and wider, now deeper, deeper…

    Dawn light creeps through the hanging roots in broken streaks, illuminating the front of the styraco-created den but its warm streaks are unable to penetrate the deep dark of the tunnel looming in the farther reaches. Callio beams in pride, bursting out of the den into the morning covered from nasal horn to tail tip in dirt, small pebbles, and even an earth worm wiggling helplessly between two of her growing crest nubs. She has done it. She’s built a home for herself and has even overcome the challenge of the tunnel, she has never felt so accomplished. Now all she needs is to make the hole less uncomfortable. Sure the darkness and close walls bring her comfort when it comes to safety, but the actual ground was not and she is tired of getting herself covered in a bunch of fur and bugs. Callio shivers at the thought, still unaware of the bug currently stuck in her crest.

   Marching off with the energy of an excited child, unable to be deterred by her physical exhaustion, she begins searching for the items that’ll make up her home. Due to her small size she is forced to make multiple trips as she finds and drags away large leaves and mosses back to her den. On her second trip dragging the foliage her young energy does give out and she finds herself waking the next day on a pile of leaves and moss she had yet to scatter about. It was one of the best nights she’s had since she’s been lost. Energy renewed and now that she is very hungry Callio sets out once more, first in search of breakfast. However, she returns to her work with fervor soon after. The ancient, dead log once empty of anyone now found itself at occupant. Beneath this unassuming stump is now a cozy den laden with beds of large leaves and mosses and a content, resting hatchling at its center as she snores away in peaceful slumber.