Instincts. Sometimes, they were all that anyone had to rely on—not others, not senses, just instincts. When you wake up in a dark, cramped space all alone, what better option is there? A hatchling used his instincts to begin pecking through the tough exterior of his shell. The more he did this, the brighter the area around him got. It hurt his eyes, but he kept pecking. Something was out there and he wanted to see. Staying in the comfort of the shell might have been easier, but that did not make it preferable. At last, a large enough chunk of the shell was gone and he could look around. There was this white stuff all over the ground, contrasting with the blue he saw when he looked up. Maybe the world only had those two colors. Trying to emerge from the shell, he saw his flipper and realized that his first guess had been wrong. He wondered what other colors there were.
Clumsily, the hatchling escaped the shell, slipping in the process. Getting back up, he glanced about. No one seemed to be there. It was quiet, the only sound being the breeze. He asked himself if the world was like that. Perhaps it would be fine if it was. He was a strong hatchling. Sure, he might not have been around long, but he was certain that this was true. If nothing else, the little bird had survival instincts. If he had to explore this bright land alone, he could. First, he went to search for somewhere to live. That broken shell would be unsuitable for a home. Therefore, he waddled around, getting used to the feeling of moving.
It seemed like a long distance that was only made longer by not having a real destination. The hatchling squinted when he saw specks in the distance. They appeared strange. He approached, speeding up. Doing so, he slipped again and landed on his stomach. He was surprised that he was still able to move forward this way. Unfortunately, he did not know how to stop. Yelping, the hatchling slid right into a tall black and white creature.
"Watch it, kid," he grumbled, frowning.
The younger bird got back to his feet. As he did, the older one scowled.
"Not even going to apologize?"
That was when the hatchling realized that the other creatures were looking at him. They seemed to all be frowning. He wanted to shrink and also stand taller just to spite them. Out of the group, an older bird approached. She waddled between the duo.
"Look at all this downy," she chided, frowning up at the taller bird. "He's just a hatchling."
"Doesn't mean he can get away with doing whatever he wants."
"Chilled kippers, you'd think that he threatened your life. He probably doesn't know how to stop sliding yet. It's good that he slid into you instead of a leopard seal." She turned back to the hatchling, expression warm. "What's your name, Sweetie?"
He did not answer, but he wanted to. This made the third bird scoff.
"See? He's rude."
"You hush," the elder stated. "He might not know how to talk yet. We all have to learn sometime." Her voice became gentle again. "If what I say is true, nod your head like this. That'll mean 'yes.' If it's not, shake it like this. That'll mean 'no.'" She gestured towards the distance. "Were you out there for a while?"
He shook his head.
"Have you seen that bright ball up there go away?"
He shook his head again. The female bird frowned at the first creature.
"See? He hatched today and you're already bullying him."
Guilt crossed the taller bird's face, but it did not stay there for long. "It's not my responsibility to know how old he is. If you like him so much, keep him, Hazel."
He slid away, making the elder sigh. She turned back to the hatchling.
"Do you know where your parents are?" When she saw the bird look confused, she elaborated. "When you broke through the shell, were there any penguins like us near you?"
For the third time, the bird shook his head. "N-no."
Surprised, Hazel was not sure to smile or be disheartened. "Look at you! You're catching on quickly." She tapped her beak, thinking, "Maybe they got eaten. It's also possible that they left. We might never know, but I can't leave this hatchling here. He'll die on his own."
The little bird's eyelids were getting heavy, but he tried to keep them open. It had been a long day with a lot of new information to process. Suddenly, he saw that bright ball she mentioned begin to lower. It seemed unnatural. Dark parts of the ground appeared, stretching in bizarre shapes. They must have been monsters. One reached towards Hazel and the hatchling tried to push her back.
"What are y—"
The elder stopped, seeing the shadow. She chuckled softly.
"Sweetie, that's not going to hurt me. It's a shadow—harmless. That happens when the sun up there sets. It'll be night soon…meaning it'll also be a lot colder."
She sighed. There were not a lot of options. Raising a chick was no simple task. There was a reason that it was a job for younger penguins, but at least for that night, it could be an old pro's responsibility. Hazel put a flipper on the hatchling's back.
"Dear, I bet you're hungry and you also need a place to stay. I can't promise anything permanent, but what if we were roommates for tonight? Would you like that?"
The hatchling grinned and nodded. "Ye…s."
Hazel ruffled the feathers on his head. "You'll be talking to everybody in no time." She started to waddle away. "Follow me."
The younger penguin waddled with her to an igloo. He seemed intrigued by the structure.
"They're interesting, aren't they?" Hazel commented. "Homes like ours are made of that cold ice and snow, but they still keep us warm when we're inside of them."
When the newcomer nodded, Hazel tapped her beak again. This simply was not going to do.
"You need a name, Dear."
The penguin wracked her brain for one. In the past, she had left those tasks to her mate. Looking around for inspiration, she chuckled at the curious bird. He was exploring every part of the igloo, even whacking one section with his flipper to see how tough it was. This made the elder's eyes light up.
"Years ago," she revealed, "I saw a human ship near the coast. This one man seemed like an explorer. He got the whole group to stop and search the area for something. You remind me a bit of him. If I remember correctly, I know what they called him."
The hatchling regarded her with fascination, scooting closer.
"Skipper," she said.
Newly named, the penguin grinned brightly.
"Skipper," he echoed quietly.
A happy laugh escaped the hatchling that melted Hazel's heart. She waddled over to a corner of the igloo, brushing some snow off of where she had been storing fish. This was going to be something that she had not done in years, but she still recalled how hatchlings needed to eat. So, Hazel chewed up the fish and went back over to Skipper. Instinctively, he opened his beak and she fed him. As soon as he was done, he sleepily leaned against her.
"Mama," he muttered, drifting off to slumber.
Hazel smiled, putting her flipper over the little bird. She preened his feathers gently.
"Good night, Skipper."
When Hazel opened her eyes the next morning, she nearly went into a panic. The hatchling was gone. She speedily left the igloo.
"What if someone ate him?" she wondered fearfully. "He just got here. How'd I lose him already?"
Hazel was able to breathe when she spotted a familiar flat head. Skipper had found part of the rookery. The other penguins were sliding around. It was a sort of game for the adolescents to see who was the fastest. Skipper did not join them, but he was practicing on his own. Seeing that he was at least safe for the time being, Hazel looked around for the hatchling's parents or another young couple who might be willing to take on that role. She could think of several who had been unfortunate enough to lose their own eggs. Surely, one would raise the bird.
"We can't," the first couple said.
"But after last month…I just thought—"
"It hurt too much. We're going to try again, but we don't want to raise someone else's hatchling."
Everyone generally had the same response. It was like they had all memorized a script. No one wanted more responsibility. Everyone was too scared to risk their lives for someone else like that. Hazel returned to where the hatchling was, expression unreadable. He was smiling, proud of himself. When he saw her, he started to slide, stopping right in front of the penguin.
"Well done!" she congratulated. Her expression turned unsure. "Skipper, what would you think about living with me? Would you like that?"
Excitedly, he nodded his head. It could be a lot to raise another hatchling, but Hazel was willing to do this. He needed a home and maybe she needed a bit more family too. As time passed, Hazel saw that her prediction was correct. Skipper was a fast learner. He was also a talker, but that was something the older penguin quickly learned to love. Their conversations were her favorite parts of the day. One afternoon not much later, Skipper was exploring more of Antarctica with Hazel. When he saw that tall penguin again, he frowned at him, puffing up.
"Tell the kid to not look at me the wrong way," the older penguin complained, glaring back.
"Scared of a hatchling, are we now?" Hazel inquired.
The other bird continued to scowl, but he did not say anything. Hazel gestured for Skipper to go with her again.
"Don't mind him. There's not much to do here, so some of the penguins get aggressive."
"Why?" the hatchling asked.
"Well, when someone doesn't have something to do that will keep them busy, their minds are still active. Instead of doing something productive, they can focus their energy on harmful activities."
Skipper hummed softly. "When I'm big, I'm gonna be real busy."
"With what?" Hazel asked, keeping in her chuckle.
"Fighting!"
"Where did you hear about fighting?"
Skipper turned, pointing towards some other penguins who were a little older than he was.
"They say fighting is fun."
"Well, it can be helpful if you're protecting someone, but I don't want you to ever fight just to hurt somebody. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Mama."
They continued waddling, going to catch some fish. Skipper kept Hazel's words in his mind. Eventually, he would be able to protect someone. Of course, he needed to learn how to fight first, but he was sure that would be the simple part. The hatchling got a bit bigger after several weeks. Whenever Skipper was not around her, he was trying to explore. When he had lost the last of his downy, his explorations led him to a frightening discovery.
It appeared strange under the surface of the water. The body was wide and large fangs were in its mouth. Skipper had never seen one of these, but he remembered the warning he always got from Hazel. It was a leopard seal. Skipper was looking down from an icy ledge. Up there, he was safe, but the same could not be said for two penguins who were in the water. They were not facing the predator.
"Get out of the water!" Skipper called down.
They could not hear him. He was too far away. Panicked, the youth's gaze kept shifting between the duo and the leopard seal. Instincts. Those were what he used when he slid down the ledge, going straight at the beast. His heart pounded in his ears, but he still did not stop. It was getting closer. Its mouth was right overtop of a penguin. The seal let out a growl of pain when Skipper rammed into the side of its head. The sound finally alerted the duo to the danger they were in. They started swimming for the shore, reaching it shortly. The leopard seal was annoyed, but his attention moved to Skipper.
"You made me lose my meal," he growled.
The seal was between Skipper and the coast. He remembered something else that Hazel had told him. If he made it to solid ground, he would be safe. The danger was in being in the water with a leopard seal. He had to get to the ice. The leopard seal swam after him, but he sped up as well. His heart nearly stopped when he saw another seal appear in front of him. Its jaws opened wide. At the last second, Skipper jumped out of the water, hopping off the creature's head and pushing himself further towards the ice. He had made it. The youth let out a happy cheer, then composed himself when he saw that the others were looking.
"You should be more careful next time," he stated, trying to stand taller.
No one was paying attention. The other penguins simply kept waddling together like nothing had ever happened—like life was not nearly lost.
"Um, hello? Am I the only one who remembers that two leopard seals were about to eat us two seconds ago?"
Annoyed, Skipper realized that no one even noticed he had spoken.
"I bet you'll notice if I don't get involved next time," he commented, crossing his flippers.
"Those who can will still live on like nothing happened," Hazel called out.
Automatically, Skipper tensed. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing what was coming. Hazel had her flippers crossed too.
"I have told you countless times, Skipper. If you see a leopard seal, do. Not. Engage. Hot mackerel! I don't know what to say that will keep you from getting yourself hurt or worse. Do you want me to have a fright attack or something?"
The little bird's head lowered. "No, Mama. I just…it's boring here. Nobody ever wants to do anything or go anywhere. I'm going to die from boredom."
He sighed dramatically and in spite of herself, Hazel chuckled.
"You're still young. You think that you want adventure out of life, but you'll learn that it can be nice to just live a safe, peaceful life."
"Only if I become as boring as everybody here," Skipper grumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
Hazel went over to him, patting his back. "Try to make some friends. You might enjoy yourself more if you weren't on your own so much."
"I like spending time with you. The others never want to talk about adventuring."
"They don't understand why you want to do it. Maybe you should try to see what they're interested in."
The youth huffed. "I already know. They like fishing and swimming. I can't talk about that all day. I need to get out of here."
"And go where, Skipper?"
Hazel was met with silence.
"I don't know. Somewhere interesting. I'd lose my mind if I stayed here forever."
A hurt look crossed Hazel's face. Seeing that, Skipper felt guilty. He had not meant to offend her. He only wanted to see more of the world.
"I didn't mean—"
Skipper stopped short, eyes widening. There was a strange sound. He looked out at the water again. Familiarity flickered in the elder's eyes. Another ship was approaching.
"Well, here's a chance for you to see some more of the world," Hazel said. "When the people leave that ship, you'll get to see the tools they use to study Antarctica. I saw it happen before."
For some reason, Skipper did not agree with her. He could not understand why. She had never proven herself untrustworthy. Regardless, he did not think that what she said was true. There was danger approaching. He moved towards her protectively.
"I don't think this is good," he said.
"It's fine," she insisted. "They poke at the snow and talk to us. They think we can't understand them, so they sometimes talk in these funny voices."
The elder penguin waddled closer to the ship. Skipper hurried after her, heart rate speeding up again. He tilted his head back as they neared the vessel. It seemed enormous. It blocked out the sun. People were beginning to disembark. They looked strange to the youth—too hairless. He wished that they at least had a couple feathers. Hazel kept waddling over to them. Before she could get too close, Skipper caught her flipper with both of his.
"Let's go back. Something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong, Dear. Just have an open mind. I'm sure you'll enjoy this."
"I feel it in my gut."
Hazel started to protest, then paused. One of the humans was getting closer.
"What a fine specimen," he commented.
Hazel grinned at Skipper. "This is a nice surprise. They normally don't give compliments."
The smile faded from her face when the person reached down, picking her up.
"Let her go!" Skipper yelled.
His words were unheard by the man. It would not have mattered either way. He began walking towards the ship again. Unbeknownst to him, Skipper was sliding after them. He did not know what he was doing. These humans seemed bizarre and dangerous. All he knew was that he was relying on his best asset: Instincts.