Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge where I have myfanwy as a character. Not entirely in chronological order but beginnings is first followed by capture. The others can be read in any order really.
Title: In the Beginning
Prompt: 001. Beginnings
Word Count: 1142
Disclaimer: Don't own Torchwood or anything that someone else invented. Do own the mum though.
Summary: How Myfanwy got to Cardiff
Author's Notes: Not really torchwood except for the character, set mainly in prehistoric europe.
In the beginning it was dark. The sort of darkness that smothers you, that covers you in a blanket of nothing, that makes you forget what light is, that muffles all sound until you forget who you are, where you are, why you’re there.
And in this darkness something stirred. One cell turned to two, two into four, four into eight. It gained mass, formed a shape, cells developing functions, and still it grew. Soon a steady ‘thump thump’ filled the space that had once been silent, as a new heart learned how to cope in this new body. And still it grew, until leathery wings brushed the very edge of the space it inhabited.
There it waited, day after day, biding it’s time, developing more as time went on, until it knew, somehow, that it was time to leave it’s prison and face the world. It pushed, straining against the walls to create a tear. Light seeped through, bringing warmth, and the creature renewed its efforts. Steadily it worked until the shell lay in pieces surrounding it, no longer a prison, but a memory of a time passed.
It collapsed to the floor, blinded by the bright sunlight and exhausted by its exertions breaking free, but its rest was soon interrupted by an insistent beak nudging it, forcing it to roll over. As it struggled to its feet it finally managed to open its eyes and have a look at the place it would now call home. Above it loomed what appeared to be a mountain with a beak, not that it knew what a mountain was, not yet. This beak had stopped poking at it now that it had moved and was now holding something, offering it to the creature. Some instinct informed it that the odd shape was food, that the smell was blood, that it should take it and eat, no matter how confusing the situation was.
And so it pounced. Claws not fully dry from the egg struggled to grip the meat, teeth not yet honed tried to bite and failed. Its frustration grew until it was knocked out of the way by the mountain. It mewled its displeasure, tried to get it back but was buffeted firmly by the head of the creature it was slowly realising was its mother. Her squawks were admonishing, telling it to wait, that she was trying to help, as she ripped small pieces of meat off and tossed them to her offspring, who devoured them eagerly.
When it had finished it looked around properly. Its eyes had adjusted to the light now, and colours shone brightly in the sunlight. Greens, browns, reds, yellows all swam in its vision, demanding attention, demanding admiration, but it forced itself to look properly, not to be distracted. The space above it was a blue grey colour, with white shapes rolling across it. A yellow circle shone brightly in the middle of the blue, occasionally disappearing behind the white shapes yet always reappearing with the brilliance of before. Below its feet was a brown surface, many different shades of brown and grey, some black and orange. If the creature moved its feet the surface moved slightly, little bits moving away, bouncing across other bits almost identical. A long way below was a sea of green and yellow with little dots moving across it, some slowly, some fast, some staying still, in all manner of colours, red, green, yellow, blue, purple, brown…
The creature looked away, confused. To one side was a wall of grey, hard and unyielding when touched; on the other side was a drop, a steep wall down to the green and yellow below. It looked back at the mountain that was its mother, giving it’s wings an experimental flap and squawking in surprise when it lifted off the ground for a second before landing with a thump. Its parent’s angry and concerned tirade was loud and un-ignorable, and before long the creature was safely back in the little nest of greenery that would be its home for the next few days.
Over time it learned about the world around it. The first thing it learned was that it was female, something it didn’t fully understand but was assured that it would become clear when she met a nice male pterodactyl, for that was what she was, a small, baby, female pterodactyl living on earth approximately 65 million years BC, although Christ wasn’t known then. The second thing she learnt was that the big blue and grey area above her was the sky, and that the white shapes were clouds. She learnt not to fly if the clouds were black and spitting water and not to spread her wings on the ground if the air was moving fast. She learnt to keep track of where she was using easy to see objects. She learnt how to hunt. She learnt what to hunt, and when to hunt.
She learnt that the coloured dots far below her on the green and yellow plains which were grass were dinosaurs, large, sometimes dangerous, often lethal creatures that either ignored her or saw her as lunch. She learnt that the grey wall was a cliff, rising higher and higher until it rose above the clouds. She learnt that the brown beneath her feet was dirt, that the big brown and green sticks that grew out of the dirt were trees, that some types of the flying creatures so similar to her were good and some were bad, that the yellow circle in the sky was the sun. And most of all she learnt that her mother was always right.
But everything comes to an end, and it wasn’t long after she finally mastered hunting that she returned to the ledge where she had hatched to find that her mother wasn’t there, that she was on her own, expected to cope by herself. And it was a shock. But she learnt how to move on, how to care for herself, how to avoid all the things that her mother wasn’t there to warn her about any more.
Until one day when the world decided not to play fair, when the rules changed and everything she knew disappeared, leaving behind a whirlwind of colours, scents, sounds that confused her, scared her. She was buffeted around, unable to control her flight, until suddenly it all stopped. And things went back to normal.
Or, more normal than they were before. For this was certainly not the place she had left. Gone were the grassy plains, the dinosaurs, the massive cliffs. In their place were grey shapes, moving lights, small patches of green with strange looking creatures in. And no cliffs to speak of. So she did the only thing she could do, the only thing she knew how to do. She hunted.
Characters: Myfanwy, Owen, Ianto, Suzie
Prompt: 096. Writer's Choice
Word Count: 816
Disclaimer: Don't own Torchwood or anything that someone else invented.
Summary: It's difficult to find good quality netting these days...
Author's Notes: Based off a comment in the case notes of the Torchwood website.
She soon discovered that it was incredibly easy to catch the strange creatures in the green shapes below. The brown sticks that surrounded them stopped them running, and she devoured three of them in quick succession before looking round for somewhere to rest. There were no ledges or mountains, but she found a little group of trees that she settled in the middle of before going to sleep.
The next time she woke it was light, and the air was filled with strange sounds, the likes of which she had never heard before. She took to the air in panic, circling above the new area she found herself in, unsure of what to do. She landed in an area of green, too scared to really pay attention to her surroundings, when suddenly strands of some material were thrown over her. It took little effort to break out of them, but it startled her enough to force her to take to the skies once more. She flew above grey mountains, above moving lights, above the clouds high in the sky, not stopping until she was calmer.
Eventually hunger drove her to return to the place she had hunted in yesterday, and she quickly caught and ate another of the white cloud like things, unaware of the pale stick like creatures approaching her from behind until she was enveloped in orange netting. Despite her squawking and struggling she was unable to break free like last time, and was bundled into one of the moving objects that she had seen on the grey lines running about all over.
It seemed like forever, but in actuality was less than an hour before she was pulled out and manhandled into a big cave with lots of flashing lights. She could hear noises, the pale creatures communicating to each other maybe, but it sounded nothing like the language her mother had used, nothing like the sounds the other creatures had used back home, not even like the ‘maaaaa’ sounds the white animals had made before she ate them.
“What is it then?” asked one voice, belonging to a creature with a brown head, blue legs and a brown top half.
“Looks like a pterosaur, from about 65 million years ago. A pterodactyl, in layman’s terms.” This was from a dark headed one with black legs and a white and black top.
A new animal appeared from a hole in the wall of the cave. This one had more stuff growing out of her head than the others, and had a different shape. The sounds it made were higher pitched too.
“Yep, pterodactyl, approximately 65 million years old, extinct, has a liking for sheep. Looks like we have a new pet.”
“Well it’s not like we can ring up the animal shelter and ask them to take it in, Owen. It’s extinct for god’s sake!”
She didn’t understand any of the sounds, and decided that it was time to find out what was going on. So she squawked. Loudly.
They all jumped and looked at her. The curved one came closer. “Awwww, you poor thing, you don’t know what’s happening, do you? Don’t worry, we’ll make you a nest up in the roof and make you nice and comfy, k? But first, you need a name. Let me think about it for a bit, it needs to suit you, it’s not every day we get a dinosaur to look after.” As it made these sounds it came closer, cautiously putting out a limb to touch her head. It felt good, surprisingly, and after the initial shocked withdrawal the dinosaur put her head under the claws and let it scratch.
It drew back after a while and the netting she was entangled in was dragged into a medium sized area surrounded by bars of grey, hard stuff. The net was cut and removed, but she soon found that it was impossible to escape from this new prison.
Later one of the strange creatures came and spent a long time looking at her, bending in different ways and trying to make her move. She didn’t understand what it wanted her to do, and the noises it produced grew louder and louder until suddenly she must have done something right as it went quiet, made a mark on some white stuff it was holding and went away. She heard it in the distance.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, although the blasted thing took long enough to turn so I could see.”
“It’s not like a dog or cat Owen. English hadn’t even been thought of when it was around, you can’t expect it to understand you.”
“Yes I can. It’s not my fault the thing is stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, she’s just not intelligent in the way we consider intelligent.”
“Is that different from being stupid?”
“Yes, Owen, there is a difference.”