Writing Starter #2

I feel a light vibration travel up my shovel.  There's not much there, but it's certainly something.  Not a rock, not a coin, no, something much more significant.  The dirt is compact and sturdy, as if it was never meant to be found.  I take my right foot onto the side of the shovel and take another stab at the surface and a faint orange glow shines onto my shovel, through the gap that I have created.  I wedge the shovel under the dirt, and fold the pile up out of the ground.  It is glowing steadily, getting brighter and dimmer and a consistent pace from beneath the dirt.  I dig in, aggressively clawing tough debris that stands in my way.  My hand freezes when I touch the soft, warm surface.  I peel away the dirt to reveal it and release the glowing orange egg into my clutch.  Gradually, it began to grow brighter, and warmer.  Not warmer, hotter.