Dawnlark Plains petro-chico boy is here for my chitlins!

It hadn't taken long for Eventide to be awakened by his brother's desperate flailing. The toddler rose to a seated position and cocked his head, ears twisting this way and that as he tried to figure out what was bothering Winterbourne so. Was it too cold? Too hot? Was he hungry? Did he have to potty? Did he have a hurt? Eventide thought through just about every cause that he could, whines escaping from his maw all the while. 

Finally, Winterbourne shot up, and Eventide scurried over to his side with coddling nudges here and there in an attempt to silently communicate, I'm here! Don't cry, River.