Redhawk Caldera you teach me and i'll teach you.

The little boy who would one day be Titmouse should've really been called Barking Owl, because of the way he endlessly screamed. It wasn't a normal scream either. As he was too small to make a lot of noise or to keep a tune going for long, he mostly hummed and squeaked — but it was loud. It was endless. With every gasp of air he would make some kind of noise, at least until Raven's belly came in close to him, and then the tiny child would try and grapple on to a teat. Most of the time he would nibble at the teat rather than suckle, causing Raven an undue amount of irritation which would (presumably) only get worse as his teeth came in.

When Raven slumped against the den floor, she wasn't too close to Titmouse. In fact, she nearly squished him with her panther-like sprawl, but he was lucky. As soon as she was down though, he began to scream. It started as a bubbly series of chirps and blips. As the little boy realized he wasn't eating right this second he gradually increased in volume and tenacity, like a kettle whose screeching high-note could be heard six houses down — and he didn't stop until someone moved him next to one of Raven's ready teats.

Chomp.