The Great Spirits wept the night it happened—an event never meant to be written in the stars.

Near the encroaching village of the two-legs, where ancient forest met newly cleared land, a colossal mother kaiju sought sanctuary to birth her young. The night blazed with aurora light as her egg emerged, its shell glistening with patterns that mirrored the constellations above. But before dawn broke, hunters descended upon the exhausted guardian. Spears thrust and arrows flew until the mighty creature collapsed, her final roar echoing across mountains and valleys—a sound that would haunt the dreams of even the bravest warriors for generations.

Chaos followed in the days after. The skies darkened with unnatural storms, rivers overflowed their banks, and animals fled from territories they had inhabited for centuries. The balance of all things hung by a thread as thin as a spider's silk.

When the last thunderclap faded and the world quieted into an uneasy stillness, a clan of nomads following caribou migration routes discovered something impossible among the wreckage—a trembling, scaled hatchling, no larger than a wolf pup, curled beside the cold remains of its mother.

Natana, her face etched with the wisdom of seventy winters and her spirit connected to realms beyond human understanding, stepped forward when others cowered. The clan's medicine woman recognized the orphan not as a monster to fear, but as a sign—perhaps the Great Spirits' way of offering redemption for what humankind had destroyed.

"This little one," she whispered, cradling the chirping creature in arms adorned with ceremonial tattoos and beaded bracelets, "is not merely a beast, but a bridge between worlds that should never have been severed." With gentle hands that had healed countless wounds and delivered new life into the world, Natana took the orphaned kaiju under her protection, knowing that in this fragile hatchling lay either the doom or salvation of everything she held sacred.