Every breath Petrie tried to draw in sent a flash of pain shooting across his chest, his lungs protesting loudly as he struggled for air. His mind was threatening to tear apart, to shatter, as he replayed what had just happened, the images flashing through his head like a broken record.
At the sound of his mother's cry, Petrie had turned around, standing dazed over the body of his sister - dead she's dead you killed her - and he'd opened his beak to... explain? Apoligise? Cry for help? He had no idea. But before he could get any words out, his mother had descended upon him, a figure so full of anger and rage and intent to harm - your fault what have you done - that for a moment he could only stand in shock. As his mother rushed at him, her beak and fists and feet stabbing at him, slashing him, beating him. As he was thrown around, Petrie almost tried to ask why she was hurting him... wasn't she the one who was meant to protect him? To keep him from harm?
Then the pain had kicked in, and his question was drowned out in his own screams. He'd tried to raise an arm in defense, but it was futile and the blows just kept coming and coming. Somewhere deep down a thought, strangely clear, rose to the surface. That his mother was trying to kill him - you MURDERED Valaria - and that if he didn't get away, that's exactly what would happen. "Mama!" he'd tried to scream. "Ma-" Then something had slammed into his beak, cutting his tongue for the second time that night, and he'd stumbled backwards, crashing onto the cave floor with a cry of pain. He'd known that there was no way to explain himself. Through his tear streaked vision, Petrie could see his siblings fleeing from him in terror as if he were - a MURDERER?! A KILLER?! - some kind of monster. Wheezing, he'd started to scramble away, and as he could hear his mother chase him down, he'd more or less pulled himself out of the cave and fallen over the edge, catching himself in the air just at the last second.
Now he was struggling to stay up, trying desperately to fly... He didn't know where. Away. Away from his cave, his family. From what he'd done. Petrie's body felt like a canvas of agony, and every move he made burned. His skin was lined with deep slashes that didn't seem to stop bleeding, and ugly, purple bruises. Blood kept dripping into his eyes from a particularly large gash that ran across his face, forcing him to blink.
"Hah..." Trying to stay up in the air was too exhausting, the effort too painful, and with a final wheeze Petrie first started to lose altitude, then dropped altogether as his arms seized up. "Guh!" With a grunt, he hit the ground hard and rolled, coming to a stop with his back on the grass. For a moment, he could only lie there, staring up at the stars, listening to the gentle lapping noises of a nearby lake, and his own pained breaths. I've got nowhere to go... he realised. And I... my sister... I really am a monster... No... what had his brother screamed? Sharptooth? That was impossible. Petrie clenched his talons into fists. He was a leafeater. Leafeaters don't suddenly become sharpteeth.
His eyes suddenly widened. But those other sharpteeth that he'd seen when he first woke up... they'd seemed so confused, just as much as he did. And their colours... brown, green, yellow... No. Please no.
Twisting onto his front, Petrie awkwardly crawled over to the small lake a short distance away from him. Drawing himself to the edge, he placed his talons in the water with a small splash and looked down. His heart went numb. Staring back at him was a sharptooth flyer. No... He gritted his teeth. It's... it's me... Through blurred vision, he saw a tear roll down the sharptooth's beak and drop into the water, disrupting the reflection and shattering the illusion that somehow, what he was seeing wasn't real. A droplet of blood followed the tear, bursting on impact and staining the rippling image red.
Those sharpteeth on the hill really were his friends. He was just like them. And right now, they were all he had.
Suddenly, Petrie heard a shriek echoing across from somewhere further in the Valley. His mother. He stared back in confusion, until it was answered by a second cry from further away. He flinched back when there was a third, final bellow. What's going on? Why... He moaned, a harsh rasp, as he realised what was happening. They were sounding the alarm for danger. Only this time, he was the danger. And if they found him...
Whimpering, Petrie twisted around, his eyes desperately searching his surroundings until they settled on a small hill not too far away. The hill where he'd woken up. If his... his friends... were still there, they were the best chance he had. Gasping in pain, he picked himself up and started to stumble towards it, still too beaten up to fly for the moment, as around him cries of confusion and fear drifted across, the Great Valley on full alert.
