Dark and warm.

It has always been dark and warm in this place, and it will always be so. She doesn't mind; she doesn't care. She is safe, she is asleep, and she is content to stay that way.

The pulsing thrum of life, of blood coursing through tiny, newly-developed veins, echoed all around the space, through the dark warmth and inside her head; it was never silent here, but it was not painful or strange.

It simply was.

Tiny muscles coiled up within the tight confines, relaxing after a new position was found. She found herself doing that more often lately; shifting, moving, twitching around within the dark. She liked the dark. She liked the warmth.

But it was a snug fit, and she wasn't sure if she liked that.

It had started gradually, the walls of her safe haven tightening around her like – like a –

She had nothing to compare it to, but the walls were constricting her, making it near impossible to move even the slightest bit.

Perhaps the dark warmth was not worth this.

And finally, it was too much; the steady beat of a heart sky-rocketed as she wiggled a stubby little claw, tap-tapping against the walls encircling her, a wish to be out, to no longer be stuck in the suffocating blackness bursting to the front of her mind, propelling her idle curiosity into a desperate struggle. She is safe, but she is awake now and being stuck no longer appeals to her.

Stuck somehow translates to not safe, and therefore she needs to move.

The taps increase in strength, her attempts growing bolder as soft crickle-crackle sounds start to emanate from where she was hitting the walls. She pecks at the small area with her muzzle before returning to her claw, scratching and prodding at the cracks until the soft material broke and tiny bits of wall crumbled, allowing her claw to stick out into open air for the first time.

Shocked and elated, she lets her arm to dangle outside for a moment, unmoving, finally free of the warm dark prison.

She shifts a little, pushing against the walls with her other curled up limbs until her head lines up with the hole and one eye can see out, can look at the world beyond her small confines. She blinks rapidly at the unexpected bright, the light that stabs her sight and almost makes her wish for the darkness again, hissing in disapproval.

Her arm wiggles, chipping away a bit more of the walls around her, and she nearly draws back, chirping in distress as the brightness floods her eye and hurts her in a way she'd never anticipated possible.

But something suddenly blocks the light, dimming the brightness, shielding her sensitive eye from the evil that had been blinding her.

Turning her head, she regarded her hole, her escape, and the confines around her; dark and warm, or bright and free? A twitch of the tail was enough to convince her; there was no room in here anymore, and at least something was blocking the light now.

A couple good kicks with a leg is enough the shatter the remnants of her prison, and she tumbles out with a cry, thudding against soft ground – grass, some innate sense within told her, it was grass – and clawing at the stuff despite the awkward position, both legs ripping up long stretches of the stuff with curved talons, tail softly thumping the ground.

She blinks, and stares, but even without the stabbing light her eyes cannot focus very easily, details of the world around her failing to compute aside from blobs of color that were most certainly not black.

Barking a weak little sound, she tries to move, to return to the position she'd held within the prison, her limbs refuse to cooperate, continuing to scratch pitifully against the grass.

The thing that had blocked the light, the thing that had done nothing during her escape, suddenly moves, and she jerks in response, lifting her head to snap despite the thing being much bigger and farther away than she'd thought.

It pauses at her hostile response, but it is not deterred, and she squints suspiciously, trying to focus on the mess of color standing over her much smaller frame.

A shape solidifies slowly, the blobs becoming less chaotic, more organized.

Something almost like a face, a body, arms and chest; no scales, claws, visible teeth like her.

She bares her little fangs, growling viciously, but it does not intimidate the large one; his mouth opens, curving upward unnaturally, showcasing his own teeth, and if she were lesser she would have whimpered in response. Instead, her eyes narrow and she snarls, a thin, tinny sound in the open air, not nearly as menacing as it should be.

A clawless hand comes toward her, and she scrambles awkwardly, attempting to hide behind the shards of her former prison, a fruitless endeavor when she is abruptly scooped into the air, brought closer to the large one despite her yips of protest and tiny claws scratching against the incredibly thin skin on his arms.

Loud noises echo around them, shouting and yelling all around them; another hand appears, covered in black material, reaching as if to snatch her away from her captor, and she screeches, sharp and piercing; she is not going back to the prison, not now, not when she is finally free and has the ability to defend herself.

However, the large one's other hand reaches up and catches the threat, a soft rumble making it retreat reluctantly, a soft hiss of air from her captor making her look up, splaying sharp claws readily.

He is not bothered by her flexing, seems completely unaware of the deep scratches she has already inflicted to his arms.

He just stares at her, mouth still quirked open unnaturally, staring at her with eyes that are soft but still incredibly intelligent, openly expecting her to attack again but not bothered in the least.

She blinks, and chuffs, sniffing carefully at the covering over his chest, all aggression bleeding out of her actions as she began to pick up the scent of him, the one who'd blocked the light and the first one she'd seen.

She sneezes at the unfamiliar smell, and his body abruptly trembles as quiet huffs of breath escape him. She tilts her head in confusion, but he just does the unnatural mouth-quirk and very softly, very carefully, places his other hand on top of her head, a light pat that barely registers through her much thicker skin.

"Hiya there, Blue," he rumbles, and she blinks at him slowly, relaxing marginally.

This is not dark. But he is warm, and she is safe from the prison and the dark hand, and he smells nice; if a bit strange.

He is Alpha, and that's what matters.

A/N: This is super unrealistic and sappy and I'm sorry but this movie made me incredibly emotional about creatures that can bite my face off and Blue is the bestest, most loyal raptor ever and she and Owen just need to have tons of cuddles forever. I'm stupid don't listen to me. :P
~Persephone