2024-06-14 - archean.003

As Mother fills the canvas of the world all the more, Opal greedily hoards the knowledge given.

Claws in the sand. The thrum of a heartbeat. A snout, rolling a shell just so. Moisture condensing with each breathy exhale.

These are treasures to be kept, droplets in the bucket of a beloved, guarded vault.

Opal’s irritation still exists – directed at those who draw Mother’s attention away, those who take these moments just as it does to hoard.

Deep in its shell, it starts to move. It is too weak to do much aside from twitch, but this is enough. In time, this rocking will grow more powerful – strong enough to shatter the shell itself for freedom. But for now, Opal concentrates on pushpushpush until it tires itself out, doing all it can to put distance between itself and other.

Ideally it would lure Mother away from the others, have Her presence all to itself. But Opal is too young to manage more than an errant twitch or two - at most, it would only roll itself in the sand, to be righted by Mother's touch.