Birth is one of the many miracles of life. It is the opposite in many ways of death, yet it is similar nonetheless. You see, when someone is born and when someone dies, people cry. The newborn cries due to the shock of oxygen. People cry at funerals because of the loss of a friend. Other similarities abound.
Hatchings are slightly different than births. During hatchings, few creatures cry. That is because they have been living and developing inside eggs that allow oxygen to come to them. Hatchings are more like the openings of flowers, and extremely few people cry when that happens.
This section, despite the first part of this introduction, has little to do with death. Indeed, it is of the hatching of a syrak. We promise you that none shall die in any way, shape, or form. With that bit of comfort, we continue our tale.
Ludoviko sleapt soundly for the three hours directly after midnight. The stars had shone well and the moon brightly as he slumbered. The light had filtered through his bedroom window on the western side. However, a sole cloud passed before the room and an ear-splitting "CRACK!" resounded from his walls.
"What the--!" he exclaims as he awakes with a start, sitting bolt-upright. He swings himself from out of his bed and glances about. He flicks his eastern shade up to glance out to the trees about his house. He runs to the western window and peers out there. Nothing seems to be capable of producing such a loud noise. He decides he was merely imagining it, and he pulls back the covers to his bed once more.
Suddenly, a series of tiny "pops" of varying intensities floods the room. Ludoviko glances about in fear. His eyes finally rest upon the black and purple egg.
"Vespera?" he inquires. The egg flashes bright purple before fading rapidly to pure black. Suddenly, it seems to melt away. In its place lies a tiny dog-like animal with the vaguest sprouts of wings.
Ludoviko rushes over to the self-made nest of blankets. He stares down at the creature before he suddenly remembers to wipe off its muzzle. He does so gently yet firmly as to get off the sticky substance that might have been blocking her nasal and oral passages.
The tiny hatchling wimpers once before burrowing herself deeper into the bedding on which she lays. She hides herself in its warmth and falls asleep. Ludoviko smiles down at her, his eyes reflecting love. "Good night, then," he states. He kisses a fingertip and touches it to where he last saw the pup.
It feels as if Ludoviko just fell asleep when he wakes to the sound of shrill yipping. Three days before now, the egg hatched. The pair was just falling into a normal enough schedule when, oddly enough, Vespera decided she wanted everything changed. Initially, it had been wake up at dawn, feed her, shower, take her outside and practice archery, eat lunch, play in the yard, feed her again, go to sleep. Now, however, little Vespera is developing a phobia of the light.
Sighing, Ludoviko glances at his watch. Five more days and he will be eighteen. Four more days and his parents come home to the house. Six more days til they send him packing. He remembers quite clearly the discussion he had with his parents about a month ago.
It had all started when they sat down for dinner that night. His father brought up the question of what he wanted to achieve in this world. He had, naturally, responded that he didn't know. His father told him that he would in no way support a slacker. Ludoviko nodded; he had known that for some time. His father continued, saying that, by the time he was eighteen, his father had thrown him out of the house to make him know the country; Ludoviko's grandfather had been an immigrant. Once again, the younger man responded that he was aware of that. His father added that he felt he had a deeper sense of the world because his father let him off on his own with only the car and a full tank of gas. Ludoviko shrugged; he had had no answer for that. "And that's what I'm going to do for you, son," his father had concluded.
"Gee, thanks Dad," he had said then as he says now. Vespera looks up at him, glancing out the window at the moon. She whimpers once before leaping up onto his bed, slightly aided by her underdeveloped wings, and licks his face.
Ludoviko chuckles, happy for once. "Okay okay. Let's get you outside." He rises, throwing on his slippers, and picks up the tiny Syrak. He scratches her behind the ears, resulting in a strange purring. "Cat and dog, eh?" he inquires rhetorically, smiling. "Well, perhaps we can litterbox train you, then." He smiles, shrugging. "But I'd hate to coop you up all day, every day." He walks down the stairs and out into the back yard. He sets Vespera down in the lawn and lets her do her own thing. "I don't know what I'll do once your wings grow in," he says, shrugging. "You're likely to fly away from me." He grins, watching Vespera leap up and try to catch the stars, her body almost, but not quite, blending in with them.
"I wonder when you'll begin to grow," he muses as an afterthought when Vespera leaps into his arms once more. As if in answer, she licks his face affectionately. "Yeah, I don't think it matters all that much either." Thus, the two head into the house and up to his room again. By this time, dawn is readilly approaching, and Ludoviko and Vespera crash on his bed, both sleeping soundly until the phone rings.
"Hello?" Ludoviko asks groggily, staring at his watch. It says that it is almost noon.
"Yo! Ludo! My man! How are ya!?" calls the voice on the other end. It is that of a boy of his age and complimented by loud music.
"Paul?" Ludoviko inquires stupidly. "You're supposed to be on a trip somewhere, aren't you?"
"No way, man! Where have you been? I come home round-a-bout Tuesday, man!"
"Paul, that was two days ago. Why are you calling me now?"
"Man, you sound wasted. What have you been drinking?"
"Nothing. I was up til dawn. What do you want, Paul?"
"And what were you doing til dawn, bro?"
"None of your damned business."
"Neh? I think it is."
"I'm taking care of our ... dog, and she likes playing during the night."
"Dog? You ain't got a dog, bro. Stop playin with me and tell me what you been doin."
"We got a dog, Paul, now bug off."
"What, we in kindergarten now? 'Bug off?' What kinda language be that, man?"
"My I-need-sleep-so-tell-me-what-you-want-and-then-go language."
"You ditchen me already? Can I see this 'dog' o' yours, Ludo?"
"No."
"Wha? We be bros, bro. Hows comes I can't see your dog, eh? Paul be thinking Ludo has no dog for Paul to see."
"Damned straight, now go away." With that, he hung up the phone and fell back asleep almost straight away.