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Midnight, or thereabouts. Perhaps a little past the darkest hour of the night. The egg rocked in its nest in the crib. Movement began inside the shell, making the leathery surface of the artificial womb ripple and bulge. It made no sound, but on a deeper level, a sense of urgency rippled outward from the egg. Out, out out out, want out - It was nothing so simple as words, but rather an obscure and unclear feeling.

It permeated Prox's dreams, and he tossed and turned uneasily for a few minutes before the nature of the emotion got through and he woke. "What - who - Merlyn?" He shook Arri's shoulder. "Wake up - I think the egg is hatching!"

Prox pulled his bathrobe on and padded over to pick the egg up, taking a careful hold on it as it wobbled in his grasp. "Definitely," he said, his voice hushed. "It's time. Um. Get the blanket and towels and stuff?"

Prox knelt on the floor, egg in his lap, watching it rock and ripple. He gave Arri a wordless nervous loving smile when his mate hurried back in, and took a towel to place the egg on. "I don't - do we need to break the shell?" he muttered, as much to himself as to Arri.

The shell strained, and a spot near the crown of it stretched a bit more than the rest, leaving a soft dimple when the pressure within withdrew. The sense of urgency remained around it. Out out out. Out now.

"Okay ... " Prox trailed off and simply watched the egg, tail flicking anxiously. "You can do it," he whispered.

The egg rocked and stretched and fell still, then began to move again. It wasn't an easy task, obviously enough. The struggle seemed to go on for an interminable amount of time, wriggling and pushing and working at the tough skin of the egg; but the weak spot near the egg's crown stretched further and further with each push, the almost-green color lightening as it weakened. When it finally broke, it did so with a very faint snapping sound.

The pressure from inside the egg was withdrawn, and the egg went still again, resting from the effort.

Prox reached forward and cautiously tugged at the rip in the eggshell with a claw, widening it. "Come on," he said softly. "You can do it." He glanced at Arri for reassurance. It was nothing like the arrival of any of the other children. Nothing at all.

Two smaller claws appeared in the rip in the shell and pulled. Now that the break had been made, the shell tore much more easily.

Prox helped remove the shell, bit by bit, almost holding his breath. The bits of shell were moist and flexible and tore cleanly away.

Within the egg was a kitten, his fur damp and mussed; he was pudgy and clumsy-looking, his fur pale grey with traces of tabby markings on his tail and ears, and a startling small shock of black hair on his head. He tore the pieces of eggshell off himself with his feline face scrunched tightly in effort and determination.

Merlyn wasn't beautiful; but at the same time, he was one of the most beautiful things ever. He opened cloudy-blue eyes to stare up at the two giant shapes looming over him. Then he opened his tiny mouth and yowled loudly in protest at being damp, cold, and no longer in the egg.