Golden Glade The Next Generation

He waited,

                      and waited,

                                                and waited,

                                                                            and waited.

Two long months.


Time was not something Rowan Courage Pryor would learn of for another month or two - maybe even longer, if he learned at all - and its not as if he knew anything outside the sightless, soundless world of his mothers uterus anyways.

But he always knew when he wasn't happy - usually, he expressed this with violent kicks to the ribs of his mother, or the other three sacs that grew around him. He had no clue what any of these things were - he just knew that sometimes it eased his own suffering!

However, one day, this all changed - there was a lot of movement, and a strange feeling within the pale boy. It was not long after that the perfectly albino Prince was evicted from the only home he'd ever known - and this did not make him happy.


What was he going to do about it, you might ask?

                                                                                 He would scream.

                                                                                                                                         Raise hell.

And, since he was the first born, he could do it the entire time his mother strained to give birth to his next three siblings, despite any of the touches she might lavish him with. He did, too: the tiny little runt, - pink nosed, pink skinned, and pink padded - despite being at his mother's teat and urged to drink, made the loudest noise of all, wailing above his siblings potential cries - thankfully, for now, the four little potatoes were deaf to the noise around them, unlike their packmates. If Aspen thought any, ANY part of parenthood would be easy - if any of it WAS - Rowan would make sure that he had something to say about it. It wasn't that he didn't love her, for he loved his birth giver and milk bringer more than anything, but he must be perfectly happy before he will quiet.

It wasn't till his mother was settled, his twin sisters and younger brother lined up to his side, that Rowan -after filling his belly with so much milk that his belly bulged - forced himself under his mothers elbow and slept, yawning wide and falling silent with the snap of his tiny jaws. Surely, he would rise early, EARLY in the morning - not to mention many times through the night - just to scream his displeasure some more. It would again be followed by silence in which he fed and slept - this was his entire life, for the next three weeks or so; even if the tiny Prince was pleased as pie to be waited on and not have to exert himself, cuddled up to the warmth of his home.