A hand is the first thing to emerge. A polydactyl hand. Then the gray skin is conspicuous. It shines with amniotic fluid. Then the other hand. Back to back they grab hold of the sides of the crack in the thick cocoon. And push apart. The gap widens. A tearing sound. Akin to that of leather being ripped to shreds � by hand. A whole body is visible. A newborn, and she is tired. But she quickly recovers. Her breath stabilizes.
She stands. Looks around. She opens her mouth, and starts to scream. An ultra-sonic scream. The walls whisper back their locations and she knows she�s in a maze. There are holes all around her, though most are overhead and cannot be reached. So she keeps on screaming. She closes her eyes. They won�t be of any use. She steps out of the broken shell that held her. Her feet get used to the clammy floor in a second. Small insects run around. Some run from her. She squats and picks one from the ground in one fell swoop. A slow one. A big one. It looks like a dung beetle. Of course she doesn�t know what it looks like. But somehow she can remember what it tastes like. It is not bad. She forgets about hunger for a second. There seems to be an exit to the room at ground level. That�s where she heads. There used to be a steel door there. Not anymore now. She goes through. There is a long corridor with a number of detours left and right. Single-minded, she decides the only direction is forward. Uttering yet another shriek halfway down the corridor, she perceives a rise: there are stairs. They may lead up. From the density of the walls around her, she knows she is underground. The stairs hold some promise.
They do lead somewhere, and the air is fresh. The night is black to the point of choking one in such despairing darkness. That does not affect her at all. She screams, and there are trees blocking the scream, and fireflies, and water.
The woods are inviting enough. However, sensing that something is amiss, she screams again. There should be an answer. The fact that there isn�t one she finds absolutely puzzling.
The darkness answers her screams with silence. She is in need of guidance. She needs her clan, her tribe, her parents. Instinct isn�t everything. What is the poor thing going to do, all alone in the middle of nowhere, in the blackest night there ever was?