shelter to my soul { birthing thread

A peaceful existence was all the bundle had known. Carried in the womb alongside others, conscious of them there but not their relation, the only things he knew was warmth and the gentle thudding around him as they moved.  But today things were changing. The others around him were too big. They were being moved, forcefully, out of the area of comfort they had known since their lives began.

...and they were being moved somewhere cold.

The boy would let out shrill cry as the gunk was cleaned off him, his body exposed to the hardness of the world and the cold air. He. Didn't. Like. It. He would start to squirm, reacting towards the warmth as something pressed his body. The warmth was that way, and the blind and deaf pup sought it. Never-mind the fact it was the wrong parent. He was cold! He was hungry! A series of protests left his mouth as he was licked. The air around him became a bit warmer but something about the motion made the little thing displeased. Wriggling the whole while, a strange burst of energy for such a little thing, he did not settle, nor cease his screaming, until he was moved next to his mother.

Warmth radiated from this place, and a scent drew him on. He knew not the name, only the instinct to move forward, find a teat, and drink the life giving nourishment from his mother's body. Small stub of a tail would move as the child settled himself down, suckling noisily and greedily. Nothing else mattered right now other than eating. Soon his tiny stomach was full and the creature would rest his body, teat still in his mouth, as he fell asleep in a process that would take up the main part of his first few days.

"Hear Me Talk,"
'Read My Thoughts.'