First Breath in the Open

The morning air felt crisp against my hide. I paused. The dry blades of grass tickled beneath my belly, entirely still. With a steady pulse of intent, I flexed my front flipper against the solid earth. It shifted under my weight. My jaw opened wider on its own, snapping gently shut with a soft click. Right beside me, the other figure stood rigid, while a blue tube rested quietly along the gravel line. I nudged a single dry stem forward, feeling my own weight settle into the ground. I am here. Moving.