"Wark."

The tiny gold chocobo shifted, tucking his head into his mother's side.

"Rrrrr…wark!"

He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the other to give up. Instead, he got a tiny talon repeatedly poking the side of his neck.

"Wark, Warakk, wake!"

He gave up all hope of further sleep at that point. Lifting his head, he blearily blinked through the gloom at the dark shape before him.

"What you want?" the chick hissed softly, taking the same quiet tone as his sibling. Their mother slept on beside them, oblivious to their mischievous scheming.

"Up, Warakk, up! Kuwark go rockplace now. We go with?"

Warakk sighed and reluctantly lurched to his feet. The black chick before him danced a little on her toes, making a happy noise.

"Should not," Warakk chirped. "This dark-time still. Rockplace far from here. Monster-types out there – this not good."

His sister ignored him, as she often did when he was attempting to be the voice of reason. She hopped and scrambled up the side of the nest, working her way to perch on the rim.

"Wrraaku, wait! We wake motherhen…she help us, yes?"

"No! Wakeno…Motherhen wakeno."

Warakk cocked his head. "Why?"

"No."

Warakk hesitated, looking at the dark bulk of feathers beside him. Their mother was large and strong – she could easily protect them from the monsters in the mountain. But if he woke her, Kuwark would only be in trouble, and when Kuwark was in trouble, he made life miserable for his siblings.

"Yes, then," Warakk said. "No wake motherhen. We find Kuwark – bring back. Fast-time, yes? Like race."

Wrraaku only heard as far as 'no wake motherhen.' Cheeping softly in excitement, she dropped from view over the nest's edge. Warakk heard her body hit the ground outside, and he hurried to scramble over the nest side himself.

Once outside, the two set off together across the rocky ground.

The chicks had never been out on their own before, let alone during the dark, and so despite Warakk's misgivings he found himself thoroughly enjoying it.

"Sweek! Warakk! Lookit here…"

The gold chocobo clumsily skidded to a halt and backtracked to where his sister had stopped to peer into a crevice. Something had fallen inside and now lay half-wedged between two rocks. The scant starlight glinted off of a curved surface invitingly. Warakk blinked and cocked his head, wondering what it might be. Too shiny for a stick, but shaped wrong to be a rock…

Wrraaku stepped forward and lowered her head, jabbing experimentally at the ground. Once, twice, three times her beak entered the crevice, but each time she came up short. Cheeping impatiently, she backed away and promptly forgot about the shiny curiosity in the rocks.

Warakk sidled over while Wrraaku inspected a bush with prickly leaves. The odd something glinted up at him. Bending down, he reached for the thing with his beak, but found himself too short to grab hold.

The little chocobo stood up straight again and cocked his head, thinking. He picked up one talon and lowered it into the crevice, balancing uneasily on a single twig-thin leg.

Still too short.

Warakk leaned over and swiped at the thing, curiosity eating at his mind. One claw struck the curved end of the shiny object with a quiet chink. To his dismay, the contact only made the something slide further out of his reach.

Huffing, he extracted his leg and set about finding a new way to reach that twig-like something, if only to find out just what it was.

Hmm, a twig…perhaps to hook it out…?

Warakk trotted over to the prickle-leafed bush his sister had inspected earlier. Odd, that she was nowhere in sight. No matter. The golden chick leaned forward and opened his beak to bite off a promising stem.

"WARK!"

"SQUAWK!"

"I win!"

"Off – ow! Off, Wrraaku! Oooow!"

Wrraaku scrambled off of Warakk's back. He picked himself up from the bush (which hurt) and hurled himself bodily at his sister. Shrieking, the two of them tumbled away in a mess of downy feathers and leaf scraps, and the shiny something was forgotten by both.

Warakk wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time they reached the rockplace; all thoughts of finding his brother and hurrying back to the nest had flown from his mind.

This romp in the dark was too much fun.

"Kuwark!" Wrraaku called out. "Kuwark! Out – we play!"

An answering chirrup resounded from the midst of the jumbled boulders. Moments later, another chick had scrambled to the top of a nearby stone.

"Wrraaku! Wa—"

He stopped short, tilting his head. In the gloomy light of pre-dawn, his feathers looked as black as his sister's – a deceptive trick of shadow masking their bright green.

"Wrraaku – you bring Warakk?"

"Yes?"

"Warakk fun-no! Wake motherhen!"

"No wake motherhen," Warakk protested. "Motherhen sleep still. No wake motherhen…this time."

Kuwark thought it through for a moment.

"Play?" Wrraaku suggested.

Kuwark gave up on thinking. "Play!"

Shrieking, the infant green leaped down from his rock to bowl Warakk over. Wrraaku joined in soon after, and eventually little could be seen but a writhing, wark-ing mass of downy feathers and twiggy limbs.

Abruptly, Kuwark wrestled his way out of the mess and scrambled to the top of the rock. What little light there was in the sky gleamed on his feathers, highlighting his form against the darkness. Rearing his head back, he squeaked a shrill challenge.

Wrraaku answered first. Head down and stumpy wings pumping, she ran up the side of the rock. Laughing, Kuwark kicked out and knocked her back. Warakk followed with his own attack, leaping as high as he could from the rock's side to dodge Kuwark's initial kicking. Squeaking, the young chicks buffeted at each other with their wings and heads until Kuwark got a lucky hit in. Warakk tumbled down the side of the rock, and Kuwark squeaked his victory to the sky.

Warakk was picking himself up from the dust, ready to try again, when he felt the air change. A smell, a feeling…something was there. Something big, something flying, something feathery…and something most definitely not motherhen.

"Wait, stop!"

Wrraaku paused in her charge at the rock. She and Kuwark stared questioningly at their brother for barely a moment before they decided it was nothing.

"Wark," Kuwark said derisively. "Warakk fun-no. We play."

"But…bad thing! Bad thing coming! Smell!"

The chicks tilted their heads back and whiffed at the air. Something both sharp and sour filtered into their beaks…something they had never smelled before. They shuffled uneasily, exchanging glances.

"Nest, now?" Wrraaku finally suggested in a very small voice.

"Yeah," Kuwark agreed readily. He took a step forward –

"KUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

A dark, monstrous shape exploded from the darkness, and in an instant, Kuwark was gone. Warakk felt Wrraaku vanish from his side, heard her running, shrieking, back in the direction of their nest. He caught a flash of motion above him and, acting by instinct, leapt upward to dig claws and beak into a putrid, filthy, feathered hide.

The thing squawked. Warakk felt muscles move above him and heard his brother's screaming voice fall down and away, impacting the ground and jolting into silence with the thud. The thing swerved and jerked violently; one instant, Warakk was holding himself up with his beak and scrabbling at whatever he could reach with his soft little talons, and the next he tumbled through thin air, desperately flapping useless, stubby wings.

By happy accident, Warakk hit the ground along a slight slope and rolled enough that the impact was lessened. The chick struggled to his feet and looked about quickly.

All was still.

Warakk held himself frozen for several moments more, but heard nothing except his own rapid heartbeat and breathing. He relaxed with a sigh and set off in search of Kuwark.

He found the green chick, bloody but breathing, on the ground not too far away. Kuwark didn't move or speak when Warakk nudged him; he was out cold. Warakk stood still for a moment, wondering what to do, when the thing's smell hit him again.

Too close…behind!

Warakk whirled to see a wide, jagged-edged beak flying closer, beginning to close, no time to think, barely time to scream one last –

"WARK!"

The beak suddenly snapped upward, falling just short of Warakk and Kuwark's huddled bodies, as the neck of the beast was born viciously downward by an enraged black weight. The battle ended in seconds as motherhen – Warwaka – plunged her beak into the back of the creature's neck, killing it almost instantly.

Warwaka turned her brown gaze on Warakk then, and he shivered. The excitement of the night had worn away, leaving bone-deep weariness behind. Oddly enough, now that the danger had passed, Warakk felt more terrified than he had during the monster attack.

The huge motherhen stepped over the monster's carcass to examine her chicks. The smell of Kuwark's blood hit her, and she jerked her head back in alarm. Warakk kept his eyes on hers, and so he noticed when the surprise in them turned to blank acceptance.

"Come," Warwaka ordered. She turned and began to walk back to the nest. Warakk scrambled to his feet, stepped forward, and paused. Kuwark was still laying on his side, one wing bent beneath him uncomfortably.

"Come," Warwaka repeated, never looking back. Still Warakk lingered.

His brother was injured and may not recover. If Kuwark could not make it back to the nest on his own, the wild would take him. It was the way of life; though Warakk was still young, this much he knew. And if his motherhen's actions were any indication, it was a way followed as one follows instinct; instantly and without question.

But some part deep inside Warakk quailed at the thought of abandoning Kuwark for other creatures to take – the same part that had driven him to attack a monster well over ten times his size moments before. This is not right, that part of him whispered. This is not You.

Decision made, Warakk turned back around and nuzzled Kuwark in the side, nudging him until he blearily opened one eye.

"Kuwark," he said gently. "Come. Safe. We go nest."

"Nest-go?"

"Yes. Up, up. Here."

Slowly, Kuwark made his way upright. He swayed alarmingly, but Warakk dipped beneath his side, supporting some of his brother's weight.

Gradually, painfully, the two brothers made their way home.

Light was appearing over the distant peaks by the time the chicks returned to the nest. Kuwark collapsed outside it, unmoving but for the ragged rising and falling of his side. Warakk paused and actually looked at the wound for the first time.

The blood was dark and colorless in the pale light, and it had spread over Kuwark's lighter feathers so far that the wound itself was difficult to spot. Guessing by the form of his feathers and the way some of them fluttered half-loose or were cut off at the ends, though, the cut was long and probably deep.

Warakk felt something inside him sink down to his toes.

What could he possibly do to help?

Kuwark shivered in the cold mountain air. He tried to curl up, but didn't manage much more than moving his legs a short distance inward. Warakk looked from his brother to the edge of the nest.

It would be warmer inside, tucked up against motherhen.

Kuwark didn't have the strength for it.

So Warakk did the next best thing – mindless of the blood staining his feathers, he curled himself close around his brother and kept him warm until daylight properly colored the mountainside.

Exhausted, Warakk slept.

When he woke hours later, it was to the comforting sight of greens enough for both of them, laid out on the ground by Warwaka.

Kuwark would live.