Nobody ever anticipated tragedy; nobody ever marked their calendars with anticipation towards impending doom. The unfortunate always crept up behind you, casting looming shadows that not even the trained eye could detect. The tiny whale that squeaked and squealed to the mother that she swam beside knew nothing but the ocean and her pod. She was safe from bad things so long as she didn’t know about them - understand them - and as far as anyone was concerned, the unnamed predator was wreathed in innocence. She was the only child in a relatively large group of orcas and they protected her diligently, always keeping her at the center of the pod and ensuring that she was cared for regardless of anything. So long as she had her mother and the rest of her family, life would be okay. She would grow and develop and one day have calves of her own, seeing the many oceans that littered the world during her constant travels.

She did not see this outcome. She not see herself being ripped away from those who cared about her, churning waters simply too strong for someone as tiny as she was. Five months old and only nine feet. She was dramatically undersized and even the slightest change in water could have her spiraling away from her pod. Perhaps she should have figured that something was amiss. The squeaks and squeals projected by her pod were ones laced with worry and distress. Something was coming and even they - the apex predators of the ocean, kings and queens of the vast expanse of water that spread in every direction around them - were not prepared for it.

She sounded her own call, bumping into her mother who’s only response was a bump back. What was going on? Why was everyone so frightened?

The water that they currently swam through was warm, warmer than the cold waters of the arctic from which they had migrated from. There was something else too, a certain shudder that caused the entire world around her to tremble, her once confident tail stokes now hesitant. Uncertain. She swam up, needing to surface for air, when a stray wave caught her, small body not nearly strong enough to fight it. Her mother followed her in pursuit, but she, too, was ensnared by the very ocean in which they loved. She squealed and squeaked, every instinct screaming at her to break free.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

Was she going to die?

The wave that had ensnared she and her mother was only growing in size and power. Bigger. Bigger. Bigger. This certainly was the end, wasn’t it? Who knew that the ocean could be so unforgiving to the creatures it willingly housed.

The small whale shut her eyes, her squeaks and screams of distress stopping. Above them, thunder boomed, streaks of lightning spiraling through the sky. She could sense that her mother was nearby but she... she was just as helpless.

And then, the child hit something hard and her world went dark.

- - -

When she awoke, she was acutely aware of a pain in her side. Something had rendered her unconscious, exposing the whale to her first instance of pain, well, ever. She blinked chocolate hued eyes confusedly, trying to place her surroundings and quickly discovering that she was resting upon a blanket of sand. Paws would flex, shaky legs struggling underneath her form to lift her dry body. Wait. Wait. Wait.

Paws?

Legs?

What was happening?

She quickly raced towards the waters edge, a gasp tumbling from obsidian hued lips as she realized that she was not a whale at all anymore. Fur adorned nearly every part of her small form and, aside from the tail that was most certainly whale-like in nature and the tiny dorsal fin that rested just past her shoulders, she realized with sudden clarity that she was some type of feline.

Her panic towards her new appearance was short lived however, her attention being drawn to something else. Something far more heartbreaking.

Just past where she had stirred, her mother’s dried figure rested. She was unmoving, chest refusing to heave anymore labored breathes. Death had claimed her, just as it had nearly claimed the small whal- no, kitten - and the realty of such came crashing into her like a wave. No, a tsunami.

Unsteady legs took her to her mother’s side, tears forming in deep brown eyes as she nudged the being that had given her life. [color=#00688B]”Mommy...” She whispered softly, too devastated by the fact that she had lost her mother to even register that she had spoken, that she had not relied upon echolocation. [color=#00688b]”Mommy... wake up!”

But her mother did not stir.

Did not move.

Did not heed to the call of her first and only child.

Had she not lost her mother, she would have been amazed by the world that rested above the water- its incredible shores and lush jungles unlike anything she had seen before. She couldn’t find it in herself to muster even an ounce of excitement - of bewilderment - though. The cost of this new world, this new life, it was too much for the child.

And so she did what any lost kitten would do: cried and begged the ocean for her mother back.

Caesar’s arrival provided her a momentary distraction from her agony, chocolate hued eyes lifting from the form of her deceased mother to focus on him. He didn’t seem too pleased to see her, but she failed to understand why. Unkindness and a generally mean disposition were things that Malana could not yet comprehend. She had never come across any truly malicious spirits in her time on this planet, the only unforgiving entity that had ever vexed her being the ocean. It had been the thing that had conjured that wave... it had been the thing that had claimed her mother’s life. And yet, she still felt herself drawn to it, its salty scent and cereulean colored sea foam beckoning her back into its depths. It was strange. So strange.

Blinking large tears away, she sniffled a little bit. [color=#00688b]”Not safe?” She inquired quietly, the words feeling foreign and wrong in her mouth. She still was not used to speaking and admittedly, the unnamed Malana struggled to decipher how and why she was able to communicate with these felines. [color=#00688b]”My mommy... can you help her?” She reared upon her hind legs in that moment, a combination of her thick whale tail and forelegs keeping her balanced as she leaned against the figure of her mother. She wanted to believe there was still hope but... but... she didn’t know. Just the thought of being parted from her mother brought more tears to her eyes, face contorting from sadness.

Papercutter’s voice cut through her misery though, draging her back to reality. She would turn to face him, bottom lip trembling. She didn’t want to cry... she couldn’t cry in front of these people. They weren’t her pod, they were strangers! The kitten didn’t like the idea of strangers. But she couldn’t help herself. She was so lost and so confused and couldn’t even begin to fathom how or why she was standing on legs. She was an orca calf, not a cat. This was unnatural.

Unnatural and wrong.

[color=#00688b]”Hurt? I... I’m not sure,” She admitted, [color=#00688b]”What’s a ‘Caesar’?” Her question was asked innocently, the concept of names not something that she had ever stumbled upon before. In her pod, everyone had a squeak and squeal that differentiated them from one another, not a vocal word. Hm. [color=#00688b]”Do I have to leave my Mommy?” Another innocent inquiry. They could bring her mother with them, couldn’t they? Swallowing down a new rush of tears, she stared between the two, white paws shuffling anxiously against the sand.