[ Light streaks in front of her eyes, lancing through the goo that surrounds her. Startled, Rachel retreats as far as she can within the egg, even as she's drowning for want of air. What in the hell is this now?
In her panicked state, the hand reaching for her doesn't appear as a hand. An octopus arm, maybe. Or pincers. If it grabs her, she's going to lose a limb. She just knows it. But, in spite of her fighting and flailing, there's nowhere for her to go; and she's been rendered weak by the stale air now scraping her lungs.
The hand grabs her and pulls. She bursts from the shell gasping and heaving and dripping in ruby-red amnion that trembles as she crawls from her prison to collapse onto the sand.
But her eyes are still open. And she's breathing. ]
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In her panicked state, the hand reaching for her doesn't appear as a hand. An octopus arm, maybe. Or pincers. If it grabs her, she's going to lose a limb. She just knows it. But, in spite of her fighting and flailing, there's nowhere for her to go; and she's been rendered weak by the stale air now scraping her lungs.
The hand grabs her and pulls. She bursts from the shell gasping and heaving and dripping in ruby-red amnion that trembles as she crawls from her prison to collapse onto the sand.
But her eyes are still open. And she's breathing. ]