Blackfeather Woods AHHH! It's demons! Run Jim! Ruuuuun! Ruuuuun!

His first attempt to breathe came as a choked gurgle followed by a splutter. His mother had not tended him — had not tended either of them — and so had left his nose and mouth covered in the fluid and membrane that her tongue should have swiped away. She had neither welcomed him in to this world nor into her care. It was up to him to breathe on his own and seek what he needed.

Fortunately, he was born healthy (at least by outward appearances) and had strength enough to fight against the slime that threatened to strangle him. He continued to cough and snort, desperate to draw air and determined to live. His uncoordinated writhing brought his nose to rub against a sibling, clearing his airway, just as his lungs could take no more. With a gasp, Euron took his first breath.

Shivering and shuddering, the pup softly whimpered and squeaked. His snout probed for warmth and for sustenance, as his legs tried to haul him toward it. But his mother was so far as to seem unreachable, and so he pleaded piteously for her to come to him. He whimpered and squeaked some more, until the ordeal of his birth seemed to exhaust him all at once. Euron sighed and dropped his nose to the cold den floor between his silver toes.