The egg was a pale, grey-purple colour, with white markings giving the smooth, glossy surface the appearance of odd growths protruding from the shell. And they were glowing. Dimly, faintly, but unmistakably glowing.
No, definitely not normal. And indisputably not a dragonfly's egg. It was too big, for one thing, and its shell was far too diverse. Dragonfly's eggs were small, rotund, and had mottled, copper colored shells. Ugly little things, compared to this egg. But when they hatched, they were the most beautiful things imaginable. From a dragonfly's point of view, that is. Her point of view.
The cluster of dragonflies and other assorted insect species that resided in this corner of the Swamps had gathered to discuss the egg. Nina didn't like this, for she doubted that any of them would act on anything other than pure fear of the unknown. A fear that was instinctive in all creatures. She too admitted that she had qualms about it, but then, who wouldn't in this sort of situation?
"…No good will come this, this messing about with foreign creatures."
Nina snorted. No good will come of it? When they don't even know what the egg contained? That would be old Sarge.
"Foreign is not necessarily bad, Sarge."
"Don't contradict me. Foreign creatures with eggs that big are dangerous."
There was a reluctant murmur of agreement to that.
"…Ought to be killed…smash the egg now, I say…"
Nina could not ignore this. "No," she said, interfering, "not murder."
Sarge gave her an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. "My dear, there is no way of knowing if it has any intelligence."
"And you assume that it doesn't before it hatches?" she demanded, raising her head higher.
"Well…"
"No. Foreign creature or not, it is still alive and still in an egg. It's not in my blood to allow the death of an infant."
Nina stared defiantly at every face present, met the proud eyes of her mate, currently minding their recently born son, named Sparx for his golden glow (dragonflies nowadays emitted their own light, rather like fireflies, only far stronger), daring them to challenge her.
Several gave a half hearted protest, but they fell silent under her fierce glare. When she was confident that she had resolved the problem, she darted, wings whirring, over to the egg. What was it? What magnificent creature could possibly live inside it?
She was soon to find out.
All considerations were abandoned the moment the clear, sharp crack pierced the night.
Nina gave a little shriek, darting out of the suspended bower that hung from a scraggly branch, strong enough for several such nests, eyes wide with apprehension. Her wings beat with a discordant hum that was joined by the wings of several other dragonflies, including Flashe, which was the name of her mate. Their eyes were fixed with an intensity that was unnerving on the egg, rocking wildly in the little grove they had set it in (it had taken quite some time, as the egg was easily heavier than several dragonflies combined, an the effort had exhausted the few that volunteered to transport it from the river bed to the centre of the nearest insect community.) and Nina could almost feel the occupant's desperate impatience to escape the dreadfully cramped encasement, as it put all its strength into cracking the shell.
A shudder passed through the watching dragonflies, and a tiny, almost indistinguishable hole appeared in the side, several thin cracks spreading like a spider's web across the shell, and a little white horn sprouted from the thickest one.
"Egg horn," she heard her mate murmur, gripping her arm reassuringly. Nina smiled at him, then returned her attention to the hatching.
It happened so suddenly, as though the hatchling had decided it had kept them in suspense for long enough, and the two halves of the purple shell burst apart, and a small (well, relatively large to them) wet shape flopped out, falling head first into the soil.
She could not resist a smile. Typical baby clumsiness. The little…thing, looked up directly at her, and she flinched at its sharp gaze. It wasn't pretty, she decided, and reptilian. That would explain the egg tooth. Scales were discernible now that the dampness that accompanied birth was drying. Its snout was almost square, but in an infantile, childishly adorable sort of way. It was quadruped, she could see that, and had a tail. What she didn't understand was the awkward, seemingly disproportionate things sticking out from its shoulders. She looked inquiringly at Flashe, silently wondering if he had any of his wise informative remarks to give. He said nothing.
The creature opened its mouth, and gave a short, clear squeal, looking at every glowing body watching it with a comically dissatisfied expression.
"There's your 'intelligent creature'," Sarge remarked in an undertone to her, a sneer spreading on his lined face.
The hatchling looked straight at him, and gave another squeal, deeper this time, with a growling edge. He gave a startled exclamation, backing away slightly.
Nina breathed in, then approached the newborn. It looked up at her, the surprise on its part this time, and reared back on its haunches to be at eye level with her, for she had flown higher than its head.
A tentative inquiry reached her mind, 'Food?'
She was shocked, more at the questioning word than the telepathic capabilities of the infant,' No, but I suppose we'll give you something', she thought back, deciding that no harm could come of feeding it.
'Hungry', the hatchling said wistfully, looking about the grove for something edible.
We'll feed you, don't worry," she said, dispensing with telepathy. The dragonflies looked at her askance. She explained the situation to them, not expecting them to believe her, but adding a stern, firm note to her voice to dispel the notion that she was mad. That was a rumor she did not intend to be spread.
The little creature emitted a loud plaintive whine, swishing its tail discontentedly. One of the dragonflies shouted at it reproachfully, to be answered by the infant squalling again and all of a sudden a pair of wide, translucent wings unfolded from its back- apparently these were the things that had made it look odd- and were flared threateningly at the guilty dragonfly. The membranous wings were similar to that of a bat- and at that thought Nina shuddered, for she hated those ugly, tight skinned almost furless beasts that gave her headaches from their sonic cries- and were light tan in colour. The infant flapped them several times, and crouched as though preparing to spring at the shouter, and Nina hurriedly flew over, murmuring to it in the consoling way she would soothe her son, Sparx. The newborn cried piteously, and a cascade of unhappy emotions poured into her from it. She wondered if it was normal for such a young creature to have such a powerful mental ability, or if this lasted long, and reached out with a tentative hand to stroke its spines.
Flashe hovered over to her, and Sparx, who had been previously asleep, suddenly leapt out of his father's embrace and made his awkward way towards the hatchling (a process which for a young dragonfly involved crawling over the ground), which blinked and sniffed at him in surprise, reaching out with a forepaw to poke him nervously. Sparx made an indignant noise, and the infant crowed in response, the contrite quality of the squawk making Nina think that it was apologizing.
She smiled at her son- no; she altered that thought firmly- her two sons. That infant, from the moment it-he- had first looked at her, had become undeniably her child, no matter what Sarge or anyone else had to say about it.
She blinked at him, and remembering a name from a legend Flashe had told her once, and said to the hatchling, which blinked intelligent eyes at her, "Welcome to the family, Spyro."