Once again, Claire found herself crying. She did it less frequently and for shorter periods of time now, but she was still rather distraught. It was true that she had learned to be more open and honest with Owen about her situation, but she hated the fact that she still cried about it, and tried to hide from him whenever possible. She was a little concerned about her inability to cope, as it had been about a year and a half since her unfortunate transformation, but she supposed it was something that didn't just heal overnight.
"What's wrong?"
Claire jumped as Owen entered the living room. She wiped away her tears and smiled.
"Nothing. I was just thinking back to the last time we kissed."
"It was that bad?"
Claire laughed.
"No, it was wonderful. That's why I'm crying. I wish it could be that way again."
Owen smiled deviously.
"Well, come closer, and we can try for it."
Claire shook her head.
"Thanks, but . . . it just won't be the same."
Owen blinked.
"What do you mean? You don't think I can top my record from this morning?"
"This morning?" Claire echoed, "No, Owen, I was talking about the actual last time we kissed. When I was human."
Owen frowned. Claire realized too late that she had said something wrong.
"Actual last time?" Owen repeated, "So, you're saying that nothing else after that counts?"
Claire shrugged helplessly.
"Well, no. It's not a real kiss unless you're human."
Owen crossed his arms.
"I guess that means that none of the other stuff we did was real for you either . . ."
"Owen, don't be bitter."
He scoffed.
"Bitter? Claire, I have every right to be bitter! Christ! Here I was, thinking that everything was right with the world, and all of a sudden, my wife tells me that we haven't been kissing for the past year and a half!"
Desperate to save face, Claire tried to explain herself.
"It's more complicated than that," she mumbled.
"Is it, Claire? Because from where I'm standing, we were doing fine."
"We are fine," she insisted.
"Why don't you want to admit that we've been kissing?" Owen snapped.
"Because it's not technically-"
"Claire, we make passionate contact with our mouths. That is called a kiss. You can't just deny that."
Claire rumbled in warning. She could feel herself losing control.
"Look, I'm not the villain, here. If anything, you should be glad that I'm not accusing you of kissing a dinosaur."
"Claire, you're not-"
"Do you even listen to yourself, Owen?" she stressed, "You say I'm in denial, but you can't admit that I'm a dinosaur."
"That's not what I-"
"Fine. If you're really dead set on calling it a kiss, it's a kiss! Now you can tell everyone that you kissed a stegoceratops!"
Owen clenched his fists.
"Are you saying there's something wrong with me?"
"I don't know, Owen. Maybe there is. Maybe you have some weird thing for dinosaurs or something. That must be the reason you've stayed for so long."
Owen stepped forward slowly.
"Claire, I stayed because I loved you. I married you, for Christ's sake! But every goddamn time you start getting upset over nothing, I have to say the same things over and over again, hoping that you'll believe me. But this is too much. If you genuinely think we haven't been kissing, I have some news for you. This is reality. This is our life. We're married, and we're supposed to love each other. I gave up a lot for you. I didn't have to do that, and I know you'll probably hate me for saying it, but it's true. I left a life behind, and for a while, I thought it was worth it. But then I find out that my life-partner refuses to admit that we're together . . . God, I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought we were over this. I'm not in denial, Claire. But I'm an idiot for thinking that you actually cared enough about me to put the past behind us."
Claire snorted angrily.
"You're just wallowing in self pity."
"Oh, I'm the one who's wallowing?" he snapped, "Look at yourself, Claire! Every day, I tell you that you're beautiful, and whenever I do, you shoot me down. You are the definition of self pity. It's bad enough that you have to be miserable all the time, but you drag me down with you-"
"You let yourself be dragged, Owen!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You can leave whenever you want!"
"So you want to get rid of me?"
"I couldn't if I tried! You stick to me like some sort of gadfly-"
"Stick to you, Claire? Is that what you call marriage?"
"Oh, come off it! We aren't married. Do you honestly think that we have legal standing as a couple?"
"Legal standing. Right. Of course. That's all that matters to you."
"Don't make me the villain."
"I'm not, Claire! You're doing that all on your own!"
"Fuck you. I'm leaving."
He waved her away.
"Fine. Go. You'll just come lumbering back here like you always do. You'll pretend to get over whatever's bothering you, but you'll lapse back into your stupid self pity in a week or so. Then we'll have another argument and go through the same shit all over again. Why can't you just accept the fact that this is our life together? Don't you want this?"
Claire glared at him with tears in her eyes. She took a shaky breath and swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Honestly, I don't think I do."
Owen stared at her, his mouth agape. She broke their shared gaze and turned to the door. Owen was frozen in shock. He didn't move as she walked across the room. Claire wasn't sure that he could move, but even so, she didn't look behind her as she pushed the door closed with her tail.
***TSJWFEW***
Claire wandered around the ranch aimlessly. The sky was thickly clouded over, and the blue cords of light that shone through the dark clumps were growing dimmer and dimmer as dusk turned to night. It would probably rain, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be away from the house.
As Claire trudged across the dark grass, she felt the silence bearing down on her like a lead weight. The only sound came from her feet as she shuffled across the field. Even the crickets were silent. She made several rounds of the main buildings before she lay down beside the old, rusted farming equipment. She hated the fact that it was approximately her size, but there was nothing to be done about it. From where she was sitting, she could see a yellow light coming from the kitchen window. She got up, moved closer, and saw Owen sitting at the table, weeping into his arms. She stared at him for a long time.
It was her fault. It was her fault that he was so miserable. What she had said about him being able to leave at any time . . . that wasn't true. He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave because he knew that she needed him. She was making him miserable. She was a burden.
Claire lumbered away on shaky legs. She turned to look at Owen one last time before making her way to the shed. She fiddled with the latch, eventually opening the door with her beak. Inside, she rooted around for something to help her set Owen free.
She found a bag of rat poison.
Dragging the rodenticide across the grass with her mouth, she scanned the surrounding area for the least likely place that Owen would come looking for her. She settled on a rocky trail, not only because it would be an arduous climb, but because the boulders would show no footprints.
She began her journey as the last ounces of daylight faded away. Slowly, she climbed across the mountain's face, hopping over gaps in the boulders when necessary. Her feet were bruised and her bones felt battered, but she kept going. Every so often, she considered going back to leave a note, but she had no way of writing it without first heading into the house and thereby exposing her plan. Besides, if Owen ever figured out what she had done, he'd know the reason. Even so, she hoped that he wouldn't come looking for her. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel responsible for her decision. If she could somehow prevent him from finding what was left of her, it would be all the better.
From where she was standing, Claire could see the house peeking out from behind a rocky cliff. She only turned back because she heard Owen calling her name. She could see him running across the lawn, no larger than a speck, shouting at the top of his lungs. Every muscle in her body screamed to return to him, but she forced herself to turn away. He'd be happier once she was gone. He didn't know it yet, but he would be. He could find a real wife. He could have children. He could live like people were supposed to live. Hopefully, he'd forget about their life together. Maybe he could move on for good.
As Claire wandered deeper into the mountain range, she thought about the people she'd be leaving behind. Her family, her few remaining friends . . . they'd all be better off without her. It must be a terrible burden to keep her secret. Now they wouldn't have to fly across the country to visit her. They wouldn't feel obligated to spend the holidays with on her lonely little patch of the world. They'd be free, just like Owen.
It was getting harder and harder to see. Many times, Claire would step on a sharp branch that would cut into her foot like a blade. Not that it mattered, of course. Still, it was slowing her down, which meant that she would cover less distance. She wanted to be far away. Very far. She wondered whether it was possible to travel so far that Owen wouldn't find her. Probably not. If he didn't find her immediately, he'd probably stumble across her sun-bleached bones, or else her not-quite-decomposed corpse. She hoped that he wouldn't see her that way. It might be traumatic.
It was then that it started to rain. Claire didn't really care, until she realized that the moisture would certainly soak through the paper bag and ruin its contents. Quickly, she ducked under a small overhang. She shook herself off and sat down on the dry ground, watching the rain pour down from the sky. She placed the bag of poison to the side. A part of her didn't want to look at it, but she knew that she was just avoiding the issue. Perhaps that was the real reason she had come this far. Was she simply procrastinating? Did she want to live?
As the sound of falling water echoed off of the curved rock that sheltered her, Claire took a look at herself in the darkness. She twisted and turned, rolled over and stood up, wiggled and contorted until she was sure that she had seen every inch of her body. She was getting used to it, but it still wasn't her. She was an animal . . . No, that wasn't true. She was barely even a real dinosaur. She was nothing. She was less than nothing. She might as well not exist. Soon, she wouldn't.
Slowly, Claire pulled the bag of poison towards her. She lay on her belly and closed her eyes. This was as good a time as any. To put it off any longer would be pointless.
She opened the bag. The pale blue powder inside looked inviting. Claire wondered if she could swallow it without vomiting. There was certainly enough to kill her, even if she did.
Claire shook her head. She had been sitting still for a very long time, and she hadn't even realized it. She was overthinking the issue. It would be better to get it over with . . . Then again, she didn't want her last thoughts to be bitter. She needed something gentle to conclude her consciousness. She quickly rejected the idea of imagining Owen, because it would certainly make her reconsider what she was about to do. Instead of focusing on people, she focused on feelings. She thought about how it felt to be kissed, pulling her mind away from specific instances for protection. She thought about lying in the sun, relaxed and carefree. She thought about how wonderful it was to feel beautiful, even when she wasn't.
Slowly, her beak opened. She leaned forward, sticking her snout into the bag. This was it. This was the end. She could finally be free.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Claire's abdomen. She screamed and rolled over, gasping in shock. Her horn knocked the bag into the pouring rain. The powder was washed away in a stream of water. Claire wailed in agony, but when the pain returned, she forgot all about her plan. Something was wrong with her, and she felt like she was dying.
All of a sudden, the prospect of ending her life seemed very foolish. The white-hot burning sensation that was quickly spreading all over her body was enough to make her wish that she was alive and without pain, or else that she could be dead without dying. She screamed at the top of her lungs as the pain worsened. It seemed impossible that it could become more agonizing, but it did.
Claire trumpeted loudly, grasping her belly with her front feet and curling her knees in front of her. With tears in her eyes, she thrashed around and tried desperately to breathe through the pain. It was like something was tearing her apart from the inside.
"WHY? OH, GOD! WHY?"
She stopped thrashing around and spread her legs. She alternated between clenching her teeth and screaming shrilly. With one final cry, Claire stretched herself out on the ground and went limp. She lay on her side, panting heavily. She was sweating all over, and although the pain was growing fainter and fainter, it was still enough to make her weep. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until she had no more tears left to shed. She was utterly stunned.
Catching her breath in short hiccups, Claire found the strength to lift her head. What she saw horrified her. Lying in the dirt behind her rump was a large, white sphere. Attached to the globe was a tube that looked like pink composite hose. It led back to her body.
"Oh god . . ."
Claire felt like she was about to vomit. She was simultaneously repulsed and horrified by the sight. It was unnatural, unscientific, and just plain wrong.
Screaming in fury, Claire stabbed the umbilical cord repeatedly with her tail spikes. She barely had the strength to do so, but somehow, she managed to beat it into oblivion. The frayed ends split apart, and as they did, they began to glow. Like the fuse of a bomb, they disintegrated, leaving only Claire and the egg. If it was magic, it was not the good kind.
Claire moaned and put her foot on the egg. She tried to crush it, but the shell was unusually strong. It slipped from under her back leg and rolled towards her face. Again, she tried to squish it with her front foot, but to no avail. She decided that it wasn't worth her time to find a way to get rid of it. When she regained her strength, she could simply push it over one of the many cliffs along the mountainside.
Closing her eyes in defeat, Claire steadied her breathing. Her plates were jutting out of her back at uneven angles, and she feared that she had damaged her flight-muscles. She quickly reminded herself that it didn't matter, because she was about to die, and speaking of which . . .
Claire felt her heart sink when she saw the last of the poison being washed away by the rain, which was tapering off into a trickle. The blue substance mixed with the mud, and soon, it was no longer visible. What was she to do now? Perhaps she could join the egg at the bottom of a steep precipice.
Claire lifted her head drowsily as she heard footsteps approaching her. Her screaming must have attracted someone's attention. She heard Owen calling out to her, and prayed that he would take a different path and miss her entirely. The swaying beam of a flashlight indicated that he had not. Claire closed her eyes tight and willed herself to disappear, still a little confused from her episode. Bright stars popped against her eyelids, and she dry-heaved.
Owen appeared at the crest of the hill. When he spotted her, he ran over. His flashlight swung chaotically as he fell to his knees. He dropped it and held her head in his arms.
"Claire? Are you okay? God, I was so worried. Don't ever do that again!"
Claire flinched as he kissed the ridge of her beak. He ran his hand down her muzzle and pressed his forehead against hers.
"I'm sorry, Claire. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean anything I said."
She didn't move. Owen gulped and lifted her chin with his index finger.
"Claire? Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. Owen sighed with relief and removed his rain jacket. He soon realized that placing it over her shoulders would do nothing, as it covered only a fraction of her body. Even so, he left it there and picked up his flashlight.
"Come home, Claire. We need to get you dried off. If you develop pneumonia-"
His light fell upon the egg. For a moment, he was silent. Then, he crawled over and ran his hand along the ivory shell.
"Is this ours?"
Claire said nothing. Owen continued to examine the egg with wonder.
"We're gonna be parents . . . We're gonna be parents . . ."
Claire closed her eyes.
"No, we're not. It isn't viable. It's like a chicken egg. It was never fertilized."
Owen's face fell.
"Oh. Are you sure? . . ."
Claire exhaled.
"Yes. It's impossible for us to have children. We're not even remotely similar, biologically."
Owen looked down. He took a deep breath and turned back to Claire.
"That's alright. Come home with me, Claire. We can talk things through."
"Are you sure you want me back?"
Owen nodded furiously.
"Yes, Claire. Of course. I love you. I love you so much . . ."
He leaned in for a kiss, but she turned away. Owen bit his lip.
"Claire . . ."
"I don't think I can come back."
Owen wiped his eyes.
"Why not?"
"You'd have a better life alone."
"No, Claire. No. I need you. Please don't leave me."
She stood up and removed the raincoat from her shoulders.
"Take this. Go back."
Owen shook his head.
"Not without you."
Claire made an attempt to get away, but Owen blocked her path.
"Claire, if something were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself."
She looked into his eyes.
"That's why I have to leave. I'm a burden."
"You're not a burden, Claire."
"That's a lie."
Owen shook his head.
"If you're a burden to me, then I'm just as much of a burden to you. It's not about bringing each other down. We're codependent. We have to be there for each other. That's what marriage is. It has nothing to do with the fact that you're a stegoceratops."
Claire didn't know how to respond. She wanted to believe him, but sour feeling of guilt was still twisting inside of her.
"Owen . . . I'm sorry. I just can't see this ending well. I don't know if I can get over this."
He pulled her close.
"We just need time."
"We've already had plenty of time."
"Doesn't matter. We can take more."
Claire shook her head.
"We're just wasting our time on a lost cause. Nothing is going to change."
It was then, as she turned away, that she noticed something peculiar about the egg. Owen's jaw dropped. He saw it too. The flashlight was shining through the shell in a way that revealed a small shadow inside.
It was an embryo.
***TSJWFEW***
They placed the egg on a towel, and they covered the towel with hay. The fabricated nest was moved to the kitchen table for safekeeping. Owen sat beside it while Claire dried herself off.
"Should we get a heat lamp?" he asked.
"Doesn't matter. It won't survive," she replied curtly.
"How can you be sure?"
Claire sighed.
"I saw these things die off by the dozen, and those were manufactured dinosaurs. One in three human pregnancies ends in a miscarriage. Our odds aren't looking good."
Owen ran his hand down the egg sadly.
"We can try . . ."
"And then what? What if everything magically goes right? Do we even know what's inside?"
Owen shrugged.
"I have no preference as far as gender goes-"
"No, not that," Claire growled, "I mean, what if it's a hideous monster?"
Owen pouted.
"It won't be."
Claire frowned.
"Owen, this shouldn't be possible, but it is, and so I'm gonna tell you exactly what's going to happen. That thing will hatch-"
"Don't call our baby a 'thing'."
Claire rumbled angrily.
"Our 'baby' is going to end up being some repulsive freak of nature, riddled with disease and deformity. If it doesn't die right away, it will live in constant pain, wishing that we had just gone ahead and pushed it over a cliff."
"Claire!"
"And if it somehow manages to survive childhood, we'll have a barely-functioning animal to take care of. You think it will be a real child? Keep telling yourself that. It's going to be a stupid-"
"Claire."
"-ugly-"
"Claire!"
"-disabled-"
"CLAIRE!"
"-monster!"
Owen stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. Claire shrunk away. She had never seen him so furious. He pointed to the door, still glaring down at her.
"Get out."
"What? . . ."
"Get out. If you're not going to be supportive, I don't want you in my house."
Claire nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Fine. Don't come after me, this time."
She once again lumbered out the front door. Instead of going for another walk, she made a full round of the house to watch Owen from outside. He was putting another blanket around the egg. When it was safely wrapped up, he held it in his arms like a baby. Claire rolled her eyes. Owen saw her standing outside and frowned. He marched over to the window pointedly and shut the blinds. Claire growled and turned away.
The ground was still wet from the rain, so Claire decided to sleep in the barn. She opened the door, walked inside, and curled up in the hay. She felt like crying, but no tears came. She was too tired to express an emotion of any kind.
She dozed off a few minutes later. Her brief slumber was interrupted when Owen entered the barn. She lifted her head, but he didn't even look at her.
"Before you say anything, I'm only here to get more hay."
Claire watched as Owen scooped up an armful of hay and waddled out the door. She flinched as he kicked it closed. Daunted, she stared into the darkness for a moment before resting her head on her arms. She fell asleep shortly after.
Claire was once again snapped out of her troubled dreams when Owen entered the barn fifteen minutes later. She cocked her head, but he didn't meet her gaze.
"I need a bucket."
He stormed across the barn and grabbed a metal bucket. Claire once again watched him leave. This time, she didn't flinch when he slammed the door shut.
Claire lay on her side, but found that she couldn't get back to sleep. She didn't want to, in any case, for whenever she closed her eyes, her vision would be flooded with images of umbilical cords and blood. Shaking her head to clear the unpleasant thoughts, Claire rolled onto her belly. She wondered what she would do, now that she had failed miserably at her plan. She could always try again, she supposed, but it probably wasn't worth it. If a stray hiker were to stumble across her corpse, it would make big news. Maybe they'd put her in a museum. At least she'd attract a decent crowd. Of course, one or two people might actually enjoy seeing her. It was all she could ask for, now that Owen didn't love her.
As this thought entered her mind, however, Owen returned with the bucket. He had filled it with warm water. He walked over, placed it beside Claire without saying a word, and left.
***TSJWFEW***
Claire awoke when a beam of sunlight crossed her face. The barn was filled with dust particles that glowed in the gentle rays that descended from the roof. She got up slowly, stretched out her legs, and shook the hay off of her side. With a deep yawn, she pushed the door open.
Owen was watering the garden. He saw Claire emerging from the barn, but pretended that he hadn't. Claire decided to play his game. She dipped her head down and started grazing.
Neither of them made eye contact for a good long time. They simply went about their tasks, pretending that they were alone in the field. Of course, Claire gradually started grazing at a closer proximity to Owen, and he in turn suddenly decided to water the flowers that were nearest to where she was standing. They got closer and closer and closer until they were only a few feet away from each other. Claire looked up and met his gaze.
"I'm sorry."
She hadn't planned to say it first, but in hindsight, she was glad that she did.
"Don't worry about it," Owen said quietly, "You were probably stressed out. I won't judge you by any of the things you said."
Claire nodded slowly.
"Is the egg okay?"
"Looks like it."
"Can I come back inside?"
Owen laughed.
"What kind of a question is that?"
Claire shrugged.
"I don't know. I'm just wondering if you plan to put me out in the kennel, that's all."
Owen squirted her with the hose. Claire laughed and tackled him to the ground.
***TSJWFEW***
For the next few weeks, Owen and Claire took care of the egg. It seemed to be doing okay, which was both good and bad. Claire felt conflicted about it, to say the least. On one hand, she didn't want it to die, or Owen would be crushed. On the other hand, if it survived, they would have to raise the child. It wasn't just the fact that the baby would end up deformed, and it probably would, but what really scared Claire was the fact that she would have to be a mother. She wasn't ready. She wasn't meant to be a mother, with her self-loathing and depression and bitterness. Not only would she be ruining Owen's life, but she would probably end up destroying what little chance this child had at being happy.
Owen, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic. He spent almost every waking hour with the egg, tending to its needs like a mother hen on steroids. Claire even caught him reading to it once. She hated to disappoint him, but she just wasn't ready for parenthood.
One day, Claire found herself alone with the egg. Owen was buying baby food in town, despite Claire's warnings that he was getting his hopes up for nothing. In any case, she was on sentry duty. She sat by the table with her chin on her feet, staring at the egg worriedly.
"I guess it's just you and me."
The egg, unsurprisingly, didn't reply. Claire sighed and rubbed her forehead.
"I know it seems like I don't want you, but it's more complicated than that. I guess I'm just afraid that you'll be screwed up. If you are, it'll be my fault . . ."
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I would like to apologize to you in advance for anything that goes wrong. I've never done this before, and I . . . I just don't know how to make you happy."
She looked away with guilt.
"I don't blame you if you don't like me. I don't even like me. But whatever happens, don't be mad at your father, okay? He really loves you. I think I might love you too. I'm just afraid."
She took a deep breath and tapped the egg gently with her front horn.
"If you can hear me, you should know that you're loved. Do you know that?"
She placed her front foot on the shell.
"Do you know that? . . ."
The egg twitched. Claire's eyes went wide.
"Oh my god . . ."
That was the first time the baby kicked.
***TSJWFEW***
Owen and Claire touched the egg constantly after that. The first time Owen felt it moving around, Claire had to find him a tissue. They placed their hands on the shell and tried to find a pattern. Surprisingly, the baby reacted to Claire's voice the most. Owen insisted that it was because it liked Claire, but she hypothesized that she was simply causing distress for whatever was inside. Owen stood by his theory, and one night, he asked Claire to sing.
"Sing?"
"Yes. For the baby."
Claire laughed.
"I can't. The baby won't like it."
Owen smiled.
"The baby will love it. Sing."
Claire shrugged.
"I don't know any songs."
"You know one song . . ."
Claire frowned. Owen gave her an encouraging wave. She sighed in exasperation and swung her tail back and forth.
"Shake your groove thing, shake your groove thing, yeah, yeah."
Owen grinned.
"It's working. This one's a dancer."
Claire continued to sing, and sure enough, the egg started wiggling enthusiastically. Halfway through the song, however, Claire stopped.
"What's wrong?" Owen asked.
Claire bit her lower beak and turned away from the egg.
"I can't do this."
Owen placed his hands on her cheeks.
"You're just afraid. All mothers are afraid."
Claire started shaking.
"What if the baby licks an electrical socket or something? We haven't baby-proofed the house."
"I bought some things to help us with that."
He ran across the room and came back with two tennis balls.
"These are to cover sharp objects."
After a beat, he placed them on her horns. Claire snorted and shook them off.
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny . . ."
Claire sighed and turned back to the egg. She placed her front foot on the ivory shell and felt the warmth seeping into her toes. Her beak quivered, and she pulled away. Owen frowned sadly, but his face lit up soon after. He scooted closer to her and smiled.
"Claire Dearing: Supermom."
Claire frowned. Owen rested his head against her arm.
"Claire Dearing: Parent of the Year."
Claire rumbled guiltily. Owen lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.
"Claire Dearing: Mother."
He smiled.
"Sounds about right to me."
Claire nuzzled his cheek. The egg gave a little twitch. Claire put her foot on it and sighed.
"How are we gonna do this?"
"We're gonna do this together."
"Together?" Claire echoed.
Owen placed his hand on hers.
"Together."
Suddenly, the egg began to wiggle like crazy. Claire frowned in confusion and leaned closer. She leapt back in surprise as a tiny crack appeared at the top.
"IT'S HATCHING!" Owen shouted.
Claire felt her heart beat faster as the crack widened. A few small fragments fell away to reveal a tiny horn.
"It's a dinosaur," Claire said.
The horn moved around a little bit, and soon, the hole was wide enough for the whole snout. A tiny muzzle poked through, sniffing weakly. Then, it sunk back in. Owen leaned forward with a worried frown.
"Do you think-"
CRACK!
The baby slammed its head through the shell, shattering the upper half of the dome. As soon as the full body was revealed, Owen knew that it wasn't one hundred percent saurian. The child had beige skin like a human, and its lips were something like a soft, wrinkly beak. Its golden-yellow frill was a simple shape, similar to Claire's, but smoother. It had three horns and fewer toes than a human. Instead of plates, it had strange bumps going down its back, like tiny dromedary humps. Its tail ended in a thagomizer, unsurprisingly. Owen craned his neck to get a better look, and decided that it was probably female.
"We have a daughter."
When Owen turned to Claire, he saw that she had tears in her eyes. His heart sank when he realized that she must be disappointed that the baby was a hybrid.
"Claire, I'm sorry . . ." he whispered.
Without saying a word, Claire leaned forward so that her beak was inches away from the baby. The hatchling's eyes were still closed, and she seemed to be feeling around for something. When she made contact with Claire, she ran her tiny toe-fingers over her beak. Then, the baby opened her eyes and looked up at her mother for the very first time. Owen bit his lip worriedly as Claire cried, but he was surprised to see her smiling through her tears. She leaned in closer to her daughter, who gave a very quiet hum.
"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Owen felt his heart glowing with joy. He reached over and ran his hand over the baby's frill. She squeaked happily.
"You're not a monster . . ." he chuckled.
Claire gave her a gentle lick.
"No, she's not. She's perfect. I've never seen a baby this pretty . . ."
Claire laughed as the child kicked away the lower half of the eggshell and climbed up on her snout. She slid back against her horn and gave a surprised cough. After a moment, she hummed happily and hugged her mother's snout.
"I love you," Claire whispered.
The baby replied by licking her. Claire giggled gently.
"Did you know that you're beautiful?"
Owen grinned.
"Yes, you're beautiful, dear. You're beautiful-"
"Lily," Claire said, "Her name is Lily."