He doesn’t try to get up once he falls down. The first time he’d tried to move to find something without knowing what he’d been searching for, it hadn’t ended well and now he's at a loss. The chilled air ruffles the cream-colored tufts plastered to his crest as he lays curled up in the grass, the same position he’d remained in for almost the entire first day of his life.

He can’t remember how many sunrises he’s seen. He’s been marking the time by the pangs of his empty stomach, too young to know that he shouldn’t be relieved that the clawing hunger has lessened despite not having eaten anything. He’d had his first meal from the big gold figure that had so resembled him but nothing since.

He bleats again, more out of instinct than the expectation that anybody will hear him. As far as he can see is a sea of green, his white face peeking out between the long grass surrounding him. But there is no sign of anyone else who looks like him. He huffs a little sigh that only adds to his pitiful bearing.

His little shoulder twitches as several blades brush against him in quick succession. Then he feels a slight tremble in the ground beneath him, followed by a much louder, much sharper cry than the ones he’d been sending out. He cranes his neck to see if the two events are related when he spots a red and white blur racing toward him. Panicked, he tries to rise and flee, but his lack of food has made him weak, and his already too-long legs won’t cooperate. They get tangled up, only succeeding in rolling him over with an involuntary squeak coming straight from his chest.

By the time the blur reaches him, he’s righted himself and tucked his legs back beneath his diminished gold and white frame. The big guy seems as frantic as the little one had just been, but the newborn has no idea why. He blinks in bemusement at the rushed words, unsure if they’re meant for him. The gold and cream pair that had left him with his lookalike had spoken to each other but never to him. Even if this one is talking to him, he has no idea how to respond.

His tiny form is still quaking, but only from the violent breeze. He’s not afraid of the figure in front of him, despite his body’s initial reaction. He snuffles and reaches out his white nose when he sees the other’s coming toward him. His pink nostrils flare instinctively, wide blue eyes staying locked on the face before him. It’s the first sign of hope for him and he won’t forget it.