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‘Ysalda.’

Mother used the sound a lot, always nosing or nuzzling her after, and gradually, she began to pin a concept to it. Hers. This sound was hers. She was this sound. It was her and belonged entirely to her and no one else, and it encompassed all that she was. Ysalda purred to hear it and leaned in, pressing against her mother and comforting herself in the scent and feel of the affectionate attentions. This, she could deal with. Good, comforting scents, licks, nosing, and — whenever her new muscles allowed for it between breaks to regather strength — exploration climbing around and (with minimal success) on top of what of her mother she could.

Then, Mother moved, and Ysalda lifted her head at the utterance of her sound. Ysalda. It was almost immediately apparent what Mother was gesturing towards. Even with her magic infant as it was and not within her ‘control’ precisely, she still got the sense of life, and her other senses — and instinct — filled in the rest. More eggs. Tapping. Wriggling. Like hers, but still intact, meaning there were others like her still trapped.

She toddled over towards the one that instinct, and her mother, pointed her towards, pushing her snout to it on arrival, licking experimentally, and rumbling. What if the one inside wasn’t as strong as her? What if it needed help? It should come out to play. She nosed again, attempting — with even more limited success than her attempts to climb her mother — to mount the egg.

“Kkrrriii—pprrrrrrrrrr…” Ysalda resorted to wobbling paced circles around the newfound source of life interest.

“Oop!” Malta yelped, “Be careful!” She was not as upset as she thought she would be, as Ysalda began to play and climb on the egg. The egg had handled her weight, after all, and as long as Ysalda didn't get too rough with it, the little one struggling to leave the egg would not be harmed. At least, Malta didn't think they would be.

She herself found it difficult to stay still as the egg shuddered and clicked with the action of the little one inside. What would they be? Who would they be? She was positively bouncing with excitement as the shell cracked, and then gave way to another beautifully green baby, who half-poured from the shell. 'Pour' was an interesting choice of words, Malta discovered, as she approached and sniffed at the new arrival.

Male.

Peisio.

She was pleased; she had always thought that there weren't enough green Peisios, especially since the ocean could take on such emerald colors. And fins too! Malta herself had fins, but she wondered where the beautiful translucent fins of her two hatchlings came from. Her? Or Roshon, hidden somewhere in his blood?

Either way, she adored this new arrival as much as the first, from his nose to his little fins and paws to his rigid-finned tail. She was surprised at his distress, though – After Ysalda's clear delight at being free, and with her own history of being trapped inside her own shell, she could see no reason why an orakoi would want to stay inside their shell, not if they were ready and able to break the shell. And they were, all of them, ready.

She cooed, nuzzling him beneath her forelegs and pressing him to her dark green chest. “It's all right,” she said warmly, “It's all right, my little one.”

He felt himself shift, with the help of another, and heard a rumbling, loud, familiar voice come from above him. Safe. He felt safe in that embrace and he nuzzled closer, eyes still firmly shut against the brightness of this new world. When something moved in, trying to invade his space with the safe thing — his mother? — he whined. He paused, shifting slightly at the licks and the vibrations of the things purrs as it wiggled closer. He blinked his eyes open, forcing himself to take on the full light of everything around him. When he did so, his vision was filled with another like him and he tilted his head. Was she what he had saw outside of his egg? Was she the reason he’d tried so hard to escape the confines of his egg?

Ysalda trilled. He was looking at her, yes. Silly little lazy brother with his slow eyes that didn’t seem to like looking, squinting like they could not see properly. She snuffed. No matter. He was still hers. She nuzzled him, making a variety of other soft, curious noises as she made her inspections before Mother was moving again. When she did, Ysalda followed, trotting along on her small legs, now already at least someone more accustomed to the concept of walking, if far from a master. The smell of food didn’t hurt.

After they made it to another settling point and Mother lifted her wing, Ysa scurried happily under to join her and her brother, wriggling and experimenting. Rolling onto her back. Swishing her tail. Attempting to coil around her brother in several ways. “Kuuuu…” she purred, rumbling out the noise as she nosed him. “Kukukuuukkuu…”

Food!

Ysa moved for it.

Four hatchlings. Four names. Malta realized that she hadn't thought of this problem. Every other problem had been discussed between her and Roshon, or had passed through her head (or, she supposed, his) at some point or other. Ysalda's name had come easily, but three more... Malta didn't think she could do it, at least, not well enough to give all four good names.

Then again, she did have a mate. Perhaps she would make him name the second two. When he arrived. She huffed, an amused sound, as she noted the good appetite of both of her hatchlings. She was careful to give them small chunks of meat at a time, carefully taken from the carcass with her own sharp (if small) teeth. Yes, that would be something she could have Roshon do.

In the meantime, she had her second one to name. Her earfins twitched at the ululating, purring sound that Ysalda made as she cuddled and snuggled her clutchmate. Kuu. Kuu. Kuku? Kukuai? That wasn't a bad name. Malta made a face. It sounded a little too close to Kekeovonnai for her comfort, and she hadn't forgiven the young Gaili for his... well, she supposed it was over enthusiasm that had brought an Orderite to her lair.

So... Kukusu? Same problem. Kusua? Hmm... She nudged Ysalda to the side to give her brother a chance at his meal before the ever energetic Orakoi stole it (inadvertently, Malta was sure.) Kuas? No, she had it now.

“Kuasu.” she said, tasting the word in her mouth as she gently touched his gleaming green back, “Your name is Kuasu.” She touched each of their backs in turn, committing the names, smells, and sights to memory. “Ysalda. And Kuasu.” She purred, content. “Welcome, my lovely, wonderful, special little gems...”

Kuasu rumbled happily at finally having a name and finished up with his meal rather quickly. His attention darted around the cave, taking in as much as he could before finally falling back to his sister. His tail twitched back and forth, head fins rippling as he tilted his head to the side and eyed her curiously. Padding, clumsily, he made his way over to his sister and nudged her snouth with his. Yipping happily he moved around to her side and half climbed, half fell on top of her and started to swat at her antennae.