Redhawk Caldera All my used liquor bottles are on display

The following members are permitted/wanted (doesn't have to be all of you or anything): @Finley @Elwood @Wildfire @Derp @Raven . I'll be powerplaying Peregrine looming and glaring in the background.

Eight hours post-birth, Nightjar was milk drunk.

He was sprawled out on his belly, with his legs spread in all four directions and his face mushed into the floor. He'd had too much milk again. Thankfully, this time it wasn't quite enough to make him puke, but Nightjar was feeling the effects of it in other ways. He was incredibly drowsy, but having just stuffed himself, he also found sleeping difficult.

Moaning (read: squeaking) into the floor, the cub reached out one of his legs in a half-hearted stretch and then slapped his thin, weak tail on the den floor. He then rolled slowly and laboriously onto his side, wriggling his legs like a turtle on its shell the entire time. For the time being, no one was touching him; it was terrifying and also awesome, for the fat baby was sort of like a mini furnace, and being away from warm bodies gave him some much needed relief, even if he couldn't regulate his body heat enough to be away from them for too long.