the nights in the desert

<span style='color:#7A8088'>
And in her darkest moment feeblely wandering, Sketches eyes landed upon a strange sight. The motionless lump which lay just a dozen or so feet away seemed to glow with an invisible calling force. With great caution, she stepped forward. Beheath her the strange floor shimmered with a surreal sort of force, simmilar to watching heat rise over a sidewalk on a hot day, or above an open flame. From what she could tell it was solid, but in this strange terra, anything was possible. Although she would liked to have thought about the well being of this fallen creature, her mind now was on her own life. She had not come into this situation to risk her life, only to be a friendly comrade. However, she knew that the creature needed help, so she pressed on. When she came to it, she realized the eerie stillness. Dead? No it cant be. In the dim light she could not tell the identity of the body, but recognized it to be a dragon like herself. As she felt her mind slipping once more into automatic-mode she turned the casualty on its back, checked for a pulse. To her relif, there was a slight vibration in the jugular vein, but it was irregular and weak. If biology lessons had taught her anything, she felt it was safe to make the assumption that although the dragon had suffered from perhaps a long fall, and possible severe emotional trauma, it had almost certainly suffered cardiac arrest. A heart attack. In her mind all her C.P.R and A.R skills became jumbled, but she managed to landmark the spot... one paw length above the stirnum... and she began chest compressions.
1...2...3...4...5...6...7........8? How many were you supposed to do? She couldnt remember. So she just continued. To her utter disgust she heard the dull crack connoting several broken ribs, but that was all part of the process. She checked for a pulse again. Nothing yet.
1...2...3...4...5...6...... she counted. And for the first time in her life, she mouthed the words of a prayer.
</span>

 

<span style='color: #7A8088'>
A spark of luck? As the creature before her gasped to life, Sketch felt her own heart skip not one, but several beats. In such shock, she felt herself topple backwards, landing softly on her behind. To her dread, she felt the impact echo through the ground slowly growing into a monstrous growling rumble. She felt sure the entire cavern was about to collapse, but as she waited for the ceiling to come crashing down… it never did. The rumble stopped and once more, she sat in the numbing silence. But now, the dragon before her was coughing and sputtering, but generally alive. She knew it was in pain as she felt its ribs snap under her own paws, let alone any injuries it may have already endured. Still at this point she could not tell if this being was her friend Temrin or not. Her eyes’ glow had grown weak from continual use, and did almost nothing for a light source anymore. </span> <span style='color:#BEBEB4'> /Temrin?/ </span> <span style='color: #7A8088'>She asked softly, but to no avail, for the creature did not answer. But Sketch was sick of waiting. She could not just sit back anymore hoping for a miracle. If her life had taught her one thing, it was that miracles do not happen when you want them to, rather, only when your least expecting them.
So with her own paws she began to escape the same way she got herself in. Extending a single razor claw, she drew a circle in the strange floor, which appeared to cut like glass. Inside the circle, she drew a pentagram, proceeding to label each point of the symbolic star with a runic letter. Upon the designs completion, she grabbed the collar of the other dragon and dragged her into the circle. She took a deep breath and began. </span>

<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>/Lady of the Night… Spirit of the day, please hear the call of your daughter…./</span>
<span style='color: #7A8088'>The rims of the circle began to glow with a vivid cobalt light. </span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>/Silvery moon woman, watch as I lay this circle of power/</span>
<span style='color: #7A8088'>The blue light brightened and began to stretch itself upwards like inverted icicles. </span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>/Great Hunter, Father, Son and lover, hear my call if you will laughing man/</span>
<span style='color: #7A8088'>The blue light brightened to a brilliant white, like that of burning magnesium. </span>
<span style='color:#BEBEB4'>/Eternal Man, watch over this circle of power…/</span>
<span style='color: #7A8088'>Sketch closed her eyes and felt a surge of electricity run through her body and into the ground, like a serpentine spirit. A sound like that of a rocket powering up shook the cavern. She could hear rocks falling free from the distant ceiling and falling around them. The floor shuddered. Looking down she could see what looked like massive snakes, four to five feet in diameter moving slowly in knot like patterns, like a colossal ball of yarn. Their skin was not scaly, but smooth like polished marble, and of a ultraviolet hue. Sketch turned from the demons below and looked to the sky, where a brilliant white star had formed only several feet above their heads, the same brilliant white as before. As it intensified, the cavern continued to shudder and crumble. The walls cracked apart and from behind their hard shell a fiery red light was emitted. They were running out of time. But then, the star flickered and turned to a vibrant grass green and it was their chance. Sketch leaped upwards into the light, and felt her paws land on normal earthly sand. Turning back, she grabbed the paw of the unconscious ‘dragon, pulling it roughly back to reality, just as the light shut behind them. </span>

 

<span style='color: 7A8088'>
Sketch awoke to the voice of what sounded to be a frightened child. Peering over her shoulder, bleary eyed she saw two luminous orbs staring back. Temrin had finally arose. The sky above her was begining to show a ribbon of rosy pink on the horizon, as the terra began to wake. It must be at least 5 in the morning. For the past two hours she had slept, after another couple hours waiting by the side of her friend...

{Flashback}

The green light faded from behind her, as Sketch scrambled to regain her footing on the warm sand. Beside her Temrin lay, eyes sealed shut in a look of pain. Rushing to her side, Sketch fumbled for a pulse. Nothing. The dragons face looked pale and her fur was sweat matted. Touching her cheek delicately, like a little girl touches her first doll, Temrins flesh felt as cold a stone. She was dead.
</span>
<span style='color: 8A7F7D'>Thats it, Sketchie. You killed them both.</span>
<span style='color: BEBEB4'>They're NOT dead. She cant be... give them time.</span>
<span style='color: 8A7F7D'>Dont fool yourself. Face the harsh truth. Oh Etchie. You did it again.</span>
<span style='color: BEBEB4'>Stop it. You barely said a word to me in there. Now stay that way.</span>
<span style='color: 8A7F7D'>How could I. You cant see whats in front of your nose.</span>
<span style='color: BEBEB4'>Its not me who's distored, Spike.</span>
<span style='color: 8A7F7D'>Are you sure?</span>
<span style='color: 7A8088'>
Sketch felt tears come to her eyes. She looked over at the two lifeless shapes, sprawled helpessly upon the sandy pentagram, now erased in several places via Sketches own frantic footsteps. Temrin and Ras. The only two dragons he had encountered, both destroyed. She blinked the salty water from her eyes angrilly. It wasnt her fault. She only wanted to help.

{Return To Current Time}

Dazed, she thought she was still asleep. No, it couldnt be. Its not real.
Suddenly the clouds darkened, and Sketch could hear waves, growing louder and louder, then it all went dark. Falling heavilly to the soft white sand, her eyes rolled back into her head. She was exhausted.
Although the entire journey had not taken more than a few seconds, she felt as if she'd been awake for days. </span>

 

Ras's cage dissapeared as Sketch broke some of his memories. The figures taunted him as he dived down to where Sketch and Temrin where. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td><span style='color:gray'>srry for my shortness</span></td></tr></table>

 

<span style='color:#7a8088'>
Sketch awoke. Immediately reality tuned into her mind like a television turning on, unaware that it was no reality at all. It was her 13th birthdayÂ… the lucky one. On her window, the tally chart that she marked daily looked like a ton of scribbles, but she knew that there was exactly 360 individual lines. She looked around the white padded room and smiled. For the first time in a year she would leave the hospital. She was going home to visit her family. From behind the stainless steel cage, the clock read 6:00 am. She would not be permitted to leave until nine, but like a child on Christmas she was far too restless to sleep. Sketch stood in the center of the circular room on all four paws. SheÂ’d often spent entire days just wondering why the contractors never put corners in. But now her mind was elsewhere. Although she rarely did it, she now shifted her skeleton into an upright position. Anthropomorphicism was usually saved for special occasions, and today certainly qualified. The change had always puzzled her as it went again numerous laws of physics. She therefore assumed that it involved a sort of Fronomian magic, which she did not inquire any further.

Sitting on the box-spring, (she did not refer to it as a bed, because it was just about as soft as a cardboard box), Sketch delicately opened an antique looking chest, the only other piece of furniture in the room. Inside was a mess of boxes and strange random-seeming objects that she kept as mementos of various events. From beneath the jumble she pulled a pair of grey and black checkered jeans, and an orange baby doll t-shirt, reading in bold black letters “I DO BAD THINGS". The shirt had been a gift to her from a childhood friend Daestreana, or commonly called “D" or “The fourth letter of the alphabet". As kids, the two were inseparable. They had decided that they were actually sisters that had been separated at birth. When Sketch was sent to the hospital, D promised that she would write every day. Weeks, then months passed and Sketch received nothing. To make matters worse, Sketch was allowed no sharp objects to write with, so could not send outgoing messages.

Although confused, Sketch never for a moment felt anger towards her sister, as she was positive that D had a perfectly legitimate reason, even if Sketch couldnÂ’t imagine what it could be.

Seconds seemed like hours as she paced the bland room, every now and then rummaging through her box. She resurrected several pieces of jewelry. A pair of silver hoop earrings and a silver spike-studded chain that had not been worn in months. She also found an old makeup kit, seldom used. But today, in her anxiety she must have freshened her makeup at least a dozen times. As nine oÂ’clock finally rolled around, time accelerated. She barely acknowledged the ride there, but as she was dropped before the familiar white house, her stomach tied itself into not one, but several knots. A flood of emotion ran through her accompanied by horrible mental pictures of her family greeting her with the same look that she received from the doctors and nurses back at the institute. The mixed look of pity and fear of the little crazy girl. The same look onlookers give an alcoholic when they say:
“I can stop. Really, I can."

Inside the house, Sketch was faced with an entirely different atmosphere. A hand painted banner hung in the entrance way reading “Welcome home Sketchie!" Finally, there stood three familiar faces. Mom, Dad, and the great D.

Hugs, kisses, laughter, tears and stories were exchanged over dinner, but finally Sketch and D were set loose to rekindle their friendship so they retreated to Sketches room, still decorated with artwork. They chatted and laughed like little kids again for hours. Finally D invited her outside for the ceremonial smoking of three nujeq cigarettes. Sketch had not touched the drug since entering the hospital and gladly accepted. Before long they sat against the house in the dirt, heads swimming with stupid grins on their faces, laughing like idiots. Then a silence. Sketch took a chance.</span>

<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “D, how come you never wrote me?" </span>

<span style='color:#7a8088'>D looked at the ground and began to mumble and jabber about how busy life was and Sketch quickly stopped her and inquired the truth. </span>

<span style='color:#ffffff'> “The truth. The truth is Sketcheth… I don’t know. You left me. The world still turns." </span>

<span style='color:#7a8088'>Ordinarily Sketch would have been hurt by the statement, for it was true after all. Something today made it hit her like a ton of bricks. Her entire last year of hell raced through her mind. The awful treatments and solitary confinement of the damn round padded room. Her sight seemed to haze with red and tears flowed down her face. ‘Betrayal" was the only world that her mind could comprehend. With a cry that sounded more like an attacking eagle than any dragon, Sketch reached for a fallen tree branch, and without thinking, struck her friend atop the skull. There was a deafening crack, but when she looked to the branch, she found that it had not broken. She felt her face go cold as she watched D slump to the ground, tongue lolling out horrifically. She was dead. Sketch prepared for the tidal wave of emotion, but it never came. She felt… numb.

In a daze she returned to the house and to her room. She did not hear her father inquire the whereabouts of her friend. Closing the door behind her, she seated herself on the soft bed. It was exactly how sheÂ’d remembered it, but somehow warmer, and for a moment she felt as if sheÂ’d never left at all. Then out of the blue, she heard a voice, cold and sly in her head. </span>

<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “Hello Sketcheth" </span>
<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “What? Who are you?" </span> <span style='color:#7a8088'>She replied out loud. </span>
<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “My name is Spike." </span>
<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “What the hell are you doing. Get out of my head." </span>
<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “Too late. I’m already here. I’ve been sent to show you the truth. You know… keep sight of reality." </span>
<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “Excuse me? I think I can handle it myself." </span>
<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “Apparently not. Do you realize you just murdered your sister?" </span>
<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “She’s not my sister. She betrayed me." </span>
<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “Dursn’t matter. You used to love her and you killed her." </span>
<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “No, its not like that." </span>
<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “Then what’s it like?" </span>
<span style='color:#7a8088'>There was a pause and Sketch felt nausea begin to rise within her. </span>
<span style='color:#8a7f7d'> “The only way to get out of it, Sketch, is to equalize the sin. Kill yourself right now." </span>
<span style='color:#7a8088'>She didnÂ’t argue. She knew that Spike was right. Still stunned she held up her delicate hand to before her face. Her claws were freshly painted black, and sharpened to razor points, thanks to the mornings frantic preparation. With her index claw, the longest and sharpest, she drew an incision into her forearm, from palm to elbow. Then another. She stared aloofly at the bright crimson quickly absorbing into the pristine white bed sheets. The pain meant nothing. She repeated the cut in her other arm. Her mind, now clear, was filled with the shock of the sheer amount of blood contained in a person. Then the room began to dim. The last thing she heard was the shrill screams coming from outside. Mom had discovered DÂ’s corpse. Then the world went white, sparkles floating like the fist light snow of the winter. Inside she could hear Spike laughing.

Sketches eyes fluttered open. She was in a dark room, the only light shone from beneath a door behind her. She went to stand up but as she went to raise her arms, realized she couldnÂ’t. She had been locked into the tight grasp of an ivory canvas straight jacket. She did not know where she was, how she had gotten there, what time it was or how long she had been passed out. She wanted to go home, but there was only tragedy there. Tears began to well as the violent and traumatic memories returned. Why was she not dead? Why.Why.Whyyy?
She sobbed and screamed for hours, rocking back and forth until she could physically mourn no more. At this point she must have fallen asleep.

Sketch drifted through nightmares, hellish and dreadful for what seemed to be an eternity. When she awoke, she found herself staring into the crystal blue eyes of a familiar face. </span>

<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “D! You… you’re alive!" </span>

<span style='color:#7a8088'>But as soon as the words had left her lips, she realized her mistake. SheÂ’d returned to the real time now, her dream still vivid as daylight. The blue orbs belonged to Temrin, thankfully alive, and conscious. Sketch had never felt so relieved. However, Ras still lay passed out on the hand drawn pentagram. She looked to Temrin. </span>

<span style='color:#bebeb4'> “How is he?" </span>

 

Sketch felt like crying just from the sheer amount of shit that had happened in the past 24 hours, but somehow blinked them back, and took a deep breath. Temrins innocent eyes looked sad as she peered at her fallen friend. Something told her that Tem was not quite as pure as she appeared... that those clear eyes the color of a spring afternoon sky had seen alot more of hell than most. Sketch knew that alot of the days events were her fault, so despite her exhaustion, she couldnt relax yet. She still had work to do. Taking Temrins paw, suggesting to follow her she said softly:
"I'll tell you about it on the way."
She didnt bother to explain where she was going, but merely lead her friend to the edge of a small jungle type area. And when I say jungle, I mean about achre of scattered tropical looking trees. They grew in the sand, thin roots sticking up in random places. She crouched low near a group of small ivory and crimson plants. She pulled several from the ground and began ripping them up.

"Well Temrin..." She did not know where to begin her story. There was no way she could tell her the whole thing. She'd never speak to her again.
"About D. She's an old friend of mine... er.. was. an old. friend." She looked to the ground.
"She died in an accident when I was thirteen. You look just like her."
Sketch looked up at Tem and her heart skipped. Half of her head was caved in in a bloody gap, with crimson streaks running down her face, and over her eyes, making the right one pure red. Her perfect clear blue eyes now dull, half open, staring to their default forward. Sketch blinked and her face returned to normal. Her face felt damp and she realized she was crying again. Quickly she wiped them away, and began back towards Ras.

 

<span style='color:#7a8088'>What she'd assumed earlier was now confirmed.
' I don't want another friend to die or leave... ' Her friends quote seemed to echo in her head. Yes, she'd endured much more pain than she appeared. But for now, Sketch pushed it to the back of her mind.

As they finally reached Ras, she sat back on her haunches and opened her palm revealing the shredded red leaves, and put them in Temrins paw to hold. She then reached down to her ankle and selected another small vial attatched to a hemp chain. There were still a couple dozen there in total. It was her portable chemical lab. Never leave home without it!

Holding the selected glass container before her face, she could see that the liquid inside was an opaque black color, and atop the lid there was a tiny sticker reading H1204Ni13. Yes this would do quite well.
She glanced around the terra, but soon found that she'd be limited in suplies and tools. If she had a laboratory, this would be easy, but today she had no measuring tools so would have to do her mixing by eye. And because of the lack of any sort of container, she'd have to improvise.

With one extended claw, Sketch touched it to Ras' lips and pried it open. The stiffness of his jaw gave her a chill. If it wasnt for the faint warmness of his flesh, she would assume that he was dead. She let go of the open jaw for a moment, and to her shock, it clamped shut. Unfortunately, her finger had still been inside, and now she pulled it back in remarkable time, and examined her hand which now had several holes in the flesh, beginning to trickle with blood. No doubt he was still alive. So she grabbed up a medium sized stick from the ground and broke it in three parts, discarded one third, and placed the other two into Ras' mouth as to hold his jaws apard. As she cautiously let go keeping her fingers well out of range, she was relieved to see that he did not move. Alright. Part two... the hard part. Sketch reached for the crumpled leaves from Temrin and placed what she assumed to be about half a gram, into Ras' mouth, carefull not to bump the sticks. Now the liquid. She pulled the stopper out of the tiny glass vial and it made a soft 'pop' noise. Now she had to estimate 28 mg. Running through several math equations in her head she looked up at the sky, and mindlessly drew various numbers in the tip of her tail as well as her paw. After at least a minute, she stopped and deposited three drops of the dense mixture onto the crushed leaves. Immediately she saw them begin to react and bubble. With a quick flick, she knocked the two sticks out of Ras' jaw and of course, they clamped shut.

Sketch turned to Temrin, who was watching with a sort of worried awe.

"Don't worry Tem. He'll be alright now. You see, the leaves will slowly bring him back to conciousness while the black stuff is a sort of... band aid for the brain..."

As she spoke she gathered up some twigs, branches and other dry materials that had collected in the vertex of two rocks. Tapping two stones together, she lit the makeshift fire, and soon it began to burn nicely.

"It can repair recent damage and hemhorage. Mixed together, it'll take him for quite a ride though. The other effect of the black chemical is that it will run through every neuron in the brain to assure that its not damaged, but also fires it on its way through. So basically, mixed with the leaves which are sort of a stimulant... he'll watch his entire life in full detail on fast forward. But when he reaches the present, he'll wake up. When he does, I cant gurentee what state of mind he'll be in, but he'll be concious alright. All we've got to do is wait. In the meantime... its your turn to tell me about your life. You said earlier that you didn't want to lose another friend. Im guessing there's a story there?" </span>
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Ras fallen form was now only an illusion put on by his mind's eye. His real self was falling quickly t'words them. As he neared them, his wings flung out he drifted close to them. He landed with a thud slightly behind them. He landed and his wings still were thrown apart and his hand between his squatting legs. He ran foreward and snatched Temrin's paw, as though trying to assure himself that this Temrin was real.

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td>Will be absent for a while. God damn exams. Write me something interesting to come back too! ^^</td></tr></table>

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td>back in action XD No, it's true, exams are not yet over. In fact, i still have two. But I cannot possibly study any more without bursting. </td></tr></table>

<span style='color:#7a8088'>
Sketch's head snapped to the right. There was somebody there, she was sure of it. Her eyes narrowed and their incandecence returned. A fact that she had never mentioned, was that the glow sometimes could reveal what others as well as herself could not normally see, like infrared vision. And now confirming her suspicion, she saw a vauge skechy outline of a pendragonesqe shape. Wings, a tail and a shoulder mostly. Ghost, or friendly. Slowly and carefully she lifted her paw from the cool sand and made a swipe through the invisable shadow. Of course, it passed right through, but yes, there was a hint of warmth in it.

Not daring to move her eyes from the spot and unblinking she whispered to Temrin:</span><span style='color:#bebeb4'>"How sure are you that Ras is over there?" </span><span style='color:#7a8088'>She motioned to his lifeless-looking body. Ignoring Tem's confused look, she grabbed a dry piece of redish clay from the ground and crushed it in her palm. This trick could be done with lasers and other infrared light, so why not this? She blew the dust over where the invisable creature sat, and sure enough, for a moment, the distinct figure of a dragon was seen.

Shocked, she dropped the rest of the dust, and took a few paces back, standing rigidly. She could feel the fur around her neck and back now standing on end. 'Not another mystery..." she thought, but perhaps this was no mystery at all. Could Ras have been detatched from his body? If so, permanantly?</span>

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td><span style='color:gray'>Bwhahaha!!! I have already finished my exams!!! We finished them in the first week of january!!</span></td></tr></table>


Ras looked at Temrin with concern as the image of his lifeless form dissapeared.

 

<span style='color:#7a8088'>It was final. Sketch knew that this nightmare of events would not end unless she fixed it right now. She was still exhausted, physically and mentally, and any other way a person can be exhausted. But it had to be done. This was the final step.

Taking Temrins paws, she sat on her haunches across from her. All emotion had left her now as she stared, unblinking, into the strangely familliar eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she began:</span>

<span style='color:#bebeb4'>"Temrin. Listen. I know I've only met you today, and right about now you really have no reason to trust me. But if you ever want Ras back, I need you to help me now. What were about to do is not witchcraft, but merely an excercise of the mind. From the what I saw from you before, I know that you're psychologically strong enough to do this.

I know what's happened here. You see, every person has two pieces, a physical part and a spiritual part. The spirit directs the persons behaviour and actions in accordance to fate. The physical part carries out the actions, and tries to make sense of what its doing, usually to no avail. Everyone already knows the past present and future, but cannot translate it into what the physical body can understand.

What you just saw now was Ras spirit. The spirit and physical are constantly linked with a silver cord, infinately long. Usually its retracted, binding the two elements together and creating an individual. Im sure you've heard of astral projection or "out-of-body-experiences". They're real. People who practice that, practice relaxing the cord, and are able to float through time and space, to see all the colors that physical eyes cannot see. To see with your mind. What happened to Ras I think, is that we've broken his connection to his body while we were troddling about his mind. Or else, he broke it himself, lost in some sort of trauma. Either way, now he's floating around in a sub-dimension with no way of getting back.

If you're wondering how we just saw a spirit, it's really simple. They're still made of energy, usually too low frequency to see except for some, or by the dust thing. The thing is, usually the spirits inside the persons body, overlapping it in an alternate identicle dimension, following every step faultlessly, because of course, they already know where each step will be before hand. "</span>
<span style='color:#7a8088'>
Temrin stared at her blankly. She had a feeling that she was in shock, but was still absorbing everything she said. </span>
<span style='color:#bebeb4'>
"Alright. So what we have to do now, is concentrate. Like going to sleep but keeping your mind awake. We have to shift dimensions... extend our own cords and lead Ras back to his own body, and possibly re-link him. It's the only way, and it WILL work this time. But for now, just close your eyes... close your eyes and become aware... of your self... of your heartbeat... of every breath you take. Dont think. Dont picture anything. Just relax. Relax..."</span>
<span style='color:#7a8088'>
As she spoke, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to forget everything that had happened, today and before. Blank.
Staring into the blackness behind her eyelids, she focused on a single spot and directed herself too it. Soon she felt lightheaded. She felt a pull in the small of her back as her body began to panic and retract her own cord, but she had done this many times before. She was a proffessional. Now the blackness faded away and the scenery around her reappeared, not in normal color, but every color. Colors a person could not even imagine. She floated just above and behind her body, which appeared dead, but of course, was not. Her body still held Temrins hands, clenching with spasms of astral energy. She was getting strange vibrations from Tem. Not bad... just... powerful. Once this was all said and done she would have to teach her all sorts of things. But for now, she stared and waited for Temrins soul to slowly progress out into the real world like a turtle coming out of his shell for the very first time. </span>