Sleeping Dragon I'm your puppet

The boy had continued to cry, ignoring the nudges for they could not provide him with what he wanted. He'd tried to hold tight, to defend the useless teat despite its lack of milk, but had failed in the end. Never would he be able to try and fix it or have a full stomach again. It was the end for young Hvitserk, his world crumbling down around him—or so he'd thought. Before he could continue with his crisis, the stick had been returned to him. At first, he hadn't even realized that it was there on account of his wailing, but once he did, he'd fallen silent almost immediately. He'd nosed it a few times, several sniffles leaving him in the meantime, before latching onto the twig once more and letting out a satisfied hmph.