shelter to my soul { birthing thread

little starling was moved, shifted, transplanted from the home he had come to know as he developed. For a moment there was warmth, an intense pressure, and then there was cold and hard ground. There was no sounds, his ears deaf to the world, and no sights, his eyes blind to the new light. Perhaps if he had been able to hear or see it would have been more jarring. But instead it was like a gentle progression, and it was only the sheer cold he suddenly found himself in that had his vocal cords working for the first time. He was picked up and all he felt was warmth, his body wiggling in search of that warmth. It was instinctual, a desire ingrained in the child to keep himself safe from the cold, and it wasnt untill he was pressed against his mothers warmth, searching out her nurishment did his cries settle. He pushed against his siblings, not yet knowing who they were besides competitive wriggling bodies in search of the nourishment aswell.