That it was dark was of no moment. The creature was effectively blind, blind and deaf though it mewled quietly at times. It shifted and stretched often, reaching to the edge of the small universe pushing and turning in the warm dampness. For many moons it curled and coiled in the safety of the cocoon, waiting and forming and biding its time.
Until now the nourishment had been enough, coming in a ready supply from the host, all that was required on demand and adequate. Time though had diminished the quality and the quantity and the creature’s needs had increased and crisis threatened.
A kind of wonder, undeniable magic began now to drive it on. Shifting against the soft envelope it turned and locked into position. Then in answer to an unseen implication it drove forward. Ripples of power caught at it carrying it onward. At times the power failed and the creature was suspended, perilously close to disaster now at this eleventh hour, but the force of desire returned over and over and the journey continued.
Now, as it tired and began to falter the last hurdle was reached, the wall must be breached, survival demanded yet one last supreme effort and so in answer to the greatest impulse in the universe it completed the exodus.
“Congratulations Mrs Barton, you have a bouncing baby boy.”