Welcome to Gaia! ::

Beams of orange light bounce of the jagged rocks. An early morning steam glows in the sun and rolls down the side of the mountain. The sky for a second appears green, then the grey of night is lifted away from the orange warmth of the sun and a brilliant blue stretches awake across the open sky. There are no clouds. The wind is slow and smooth.

Groups of song birds stir one another awake with their alerts of finding delicious food. Chirping back and forth, they give life to the entire mountain side.

A perfectly still, wet, green nose twitches to life. The movement is subtle. It takes a slow calm inhale.

There is a lot of moisture in the air. There is the smell of fresh green leaves, globes of pink sweet flowers, grubs, food for birds, dry red dirt, clay, sulfur, fish, sweet, salty, savory smells. The wet green nose exhales, and inhales again. The same smells again, settle in the thoughts of a blue and orange B'alam. Some smells are close, some are far. The B'alam exhales, and inhales again. Exhale. Inhale. The first smells of his life are now secondary. He focuses on his breath. It fills his muzzle, moves down his forward and flicks into his ears.

He listens. The first sound he hears is of distant water. Slowly, the sounds he hears move close and closer to his own body. The pulse of the nature sounds like running water, ocean waves lap in the distance, the pull of salty, fishy wind moves from the coast and towards him. Birds chirping, dirt and sand being moved by the wind. The inhale and exhale of the mountainside mirrors his own breath.

Before giving into the temptation of opening his eyes, the B'alam focus again on his breath. Inhale. Exhale. It moves down his neck, runs through his shoulders and down his spine. Slowly, every muscle in his body begins to awaken. His hips, arms and legs, his ankles and toes spring to life. Aware of his body, he notices the subtle difference in feeling between tense muscles, and relaxed muscle. Tense. Relax. Tense. Relax. On his last exhale as an inanimate pile of muscle and fur, Ipsen Sudorpaw gently opens his eyes. He is awake. He is here, and he is very much alive.

He takes his first breath as Ipsen Sudorpaw. Inhale. Exhale. His eyes flutter, adjusting from the darkness of nothing to the colorful light of existence. He sees the blue sky, the grey rocks. He sees more and more colors than he's ever had time to imagine.

Time. Imagine. The calm confident first moments of life are brought to an abrupt end with these two words. Time. Imagine. The B'alam is aware of these words and of their meaning. While just becoming aware, he has a full understanding of language, and is thus immediatly catapulted into the complex questions that language was created to answer.

Why am I here?

The green nosed, blue and orange B'alam begins to raise his head. It feels heavier than he expected. Expected... another thought provoking word, he thinks. Tempted to give into the feeling of exhaustion, the B'alam beings to lower his head back down.

Time... Imagine... there is no time to be tired. There are answers that need questions. Questions that need answers...

I feel I have horns and I have been woven into the Fire Tribe, why? I see fur decorated with color of wind and water on my limbs, why? I seek the feminine spirit of Nantlil, where is she?

The presence of energy shoots through his laying down body. His paws feel ready for pressure, his toes and tail feel ready to balance him. He pushes down, puts his focus on his spread toes and heavy paws. His elbows and knees bend, and he lifts off the ground, slowly raising his head last. First looking at his feet, amazed at how hard working they have already proven to be, Ipsen then looks out ahead of him. Where has the Grand Weaver woven him?

Standing for the first time in his life, Ipsen savors the moment. He pauses, and looks straight ahead of him for what feels like hours. The wind gently kisses his check, twirling the fur on his checks in small circles. The humidity encourages him to move slow, seeping through his fur and making his hot skin feel cool. He looks straight forward. He savors the quenching feeling of blinking. A smile, his first smile, appears. It is gentle, it is patient and kind, like a treat for letting go of the anxious feelings he felt before. There will be time to answer those questions. All we have is time.

Brining his focus back to his breath. Ipsen takes a deep inhale, and a purposeful exhale. He relaxes his neck and lowers his head. A satisfying dog-like-shake starts from his shoulder and moves down his spine. His tail flicks the nervous energy out and away from his body and mind. The roar of a strong lion-like yawn fills the corner of the mountainside where Ipsen was woven. "HERYOAAWN." A sky blue tongue flops out over his pearly white fangs in the midst of this satisfying yawn. He smiles again. He can open his mouth wide, very wide. He must be a good hunter. Filled with guilt from his first feeling of vanity and ego, Ipsen bows and stretches his legs forward, giving thanks for what he has in the moment. His bright yellow-orange horns tilt towards the ground in the midst of his stretch. His blue tail, flecked with orange ribbons that remind one of flames, curves over his back.

Ipsen licks his lips and begins to take a wider survey of the area where he was woven. He feels ready to explore.

((976 words))

Ipsen doesn't find anything in the rocks. He leaps to a new rock and looks around it, again there is nothing. He jumps to a third walk, searches, and again finds nothing underneath the rock. He looks up uphill, ahead of the rocks, and starts to see a thin, lightly used path appearing out of the dust. Faint paw prints dot the sand and dirt on the rocks in front of him, leaving a bread crumb around the mountainside.

He very briefly hesitates, and then starts to careful bound forward. He feels stronger and more awake the further he runs, and the faster her runs. He breaks through the wind, moving faster and faster. His movements are smooth, his whiskers are pushed back by the wind. He feels like he is running towards someone. The path abruptly ends at a steep drop off. Ip slides to a quick stop. This cliff is steeper than the last. He thinks, maybe I went the wrong way.

((165 words))