Sit, sit, compulsion to sit… There were no scentless bodies, so Little sat on a cocoon, curving her whole body around it, keeping the young one inside nice and warm. Grow, grow, I will keep you warm to grow, Little scent-sang. Her thoughts kept drifting back to She-Who-Takes-the-Scentless, and how she showed signs of the mysterious, terrifying sickness.
A scent slowly wafted from the cocoon. I am ready, I am ready!
Oh, lovely sister, sang Little. Let us see you! She crawled off the cocoon. She couldn’t wait to smell the beautiful scent of a hatchling! They smelled of rose-rain-spice with several more layers of sweet.
The hatchling chewed a hole through her cocoon. SoUr-SiCkNeSs-SoUr-SiCkNeSs…
Little froze. (Panic-panic-panic!) Hatchlings are not supposed to smell like this! Help! Help!
Sisters gathered. Little could smell She-Who-Takes-the-Scentless as she squeezed up beside her.
Another one, sang She-Who-Takes-The-Scentless. All the Sisters could smell the wrong, pungent smell of the hatchling.
Sorrow-sadness-sorrow-sadness… The sisters all sang. The nest was engulfed in a heavy cloud.
The hatchling pushed her body out of the hole she had chewed in the cocoon. Little gently crawled over the hatchling one, two, three times. Her wings are too small!
SoUr-SiCkNeSs-SoUr-SiCkNeSs…Get-out-ggg###–ett##outtt>>>!!! The hatchling’s scent stung Little’s antennae.
She will be Scentless soon, sang She-Who-Takes-The-Scentless.
Sorrow-sadness-sorrow-sadness… Mother joined in on the song.
Little crawled down the hill, squeezing between her sisters, and chewed a hole in an Apple nectar pot.