{the proverbial sunrise [closed]

[poppy]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=background,http://i50.tinypic.com/izxiti.png,true] The first thing she knew was darkness, confined in the small but strangely comforting cocoon that surrounded her with warmth and quiet. Her eyelids were squeezed shut, her limbs curled under her as though she was in a constant state of sleep. She had no intention of ever leaving the pod of her own Tart Cerasus tree. This is home. But then the pod started to sway violently, and the previous silence was swept away by blustering winds that whooshed past her newly formed ears. It had become obvious that it was no longer safe to stay in her home, not when it was only a breeze away from dropping, crashing into whatever lay below. She needed a way out, and the sooner the better -- perhaps she could find a new home when she was out. She began to claw at the velvety inner covering of her cocoon, slowly making her way to the tough, fibrous outer layer. My claws are sharp, she realized, and by instinct she opened her mouth and used her small white teeth to aid in her escape. It was not long before she had made a small tear in the pod, and she continued to work at it until the opening was large enough for her relatively small frame to fit through. She squeezed her front legs, her head through the hole, and then she was-- Falling, falling to the ground, a long ways away (over thirty feet, although she would not have known the measurement at the time). Terror overcame her before instinct took over, righting her body so that she could land safely on her feet, which she did, touching the ground without injury, although the fall had shaken her up. She opened her eyes just a slit and was met with a blinding light. She shut her eyes quickly, allowing herself to get used to the brightness of her new world, opening them bit by bit until she could see the earth that extended all the way to the horizon. The land around here was dotted with trees, including the one she stood next to. As far as she could tell, there were three different types of trees, and hers was the tallest. Vidalia, the feline thought abruptly, interrupting her observations of the Orchard. She was not taken aback by her sudden awareness, as though it was something she had known all along but was only surfacing just now. I am Vidalia. The realization brought her great satisfaction, as did the realization of her own species. Feline. She was a cat. Turning her head every which way to get a better glimpse at her own body, Vidalia saw that she was what she would later call a "tortoiseshell," with an amber and cream patterned coat, long hind legs, and slender build. The feline wished that she could see her own face, to admire her own lovely aqua eyes (even though she could not see the strikingly colored windows to her soul just yet). Well, that would be her first mission -- she would have to find a reflective surface. She welcomed the challenge. Vidalia began to walk, the movement of her limbs an entirely new concept, yet so familiar after she got past the first few wobbly steps. This is the dawning of the rest of my life.