Life for the blind and deaf Rian remained unexciting once the shock of being born into the strange world he had yet to truly understand with any level of depth had worn off. His days were filled with little other than eating, returning the errant kicks of his siblings and sleeping. He did a lot of that — sleeping. His dreams were more exciting than his waking world. Rian had been sleeping when a gurgle rumbled through his belly. At first, he awoke, a wide yawn leaving his tiny lips and shuffled closer to the softness of his mother's belly, burying his face into it for a moment. The gurgle happened again and he snuffled quite uselessly around — drat his nose was as blind as his eyes! — before he found a teat and began to suckle. Except the warm and sweet mother's milk didn't soothe the grumble. His stomach did it again and to the great misfortune of his parent(s) he broke wind. The relief was immediate and Rian let out a small squeak that was meant to portray his measure of relief before he crawled away from his food source, understanding that he hadn't been hungry at the moment, after all. Where the little king was going, he didn't know, only that he was crawling somewhere and that was the most exciting thing to happen to him yet.

Ignorant to the chaos his separation from the fleet his siblings had caused — at least for two of them — he kept army crawling, sloth-like towards ...well Rian himself wasn't so sure. As it happened, he was making something of a beeline for one of his mother's paws. While he thought he was far away from his squirming siblings the truth was: he was just out of reach of bumping into one of their butts. A swing of his own little butt would be enough to touch one of them Rian never managed it and thus kept up the wrong assumption that he'd broken away and was flying solo, out of reach of everything that had once surrounded him. Their absence left a chill in his bones, seeping through his wispy fur, his infant body unable to regulate his own body temperature but he felt the lingering waves of his mother's own body heat, though it was not as engulfing as he would have liked. Nevertheless, the little king soldiered on until he didn't. He paused, utterly perplexed when he accidentally headbutted something ...though whether it was a sibling butt or one of Kaskara's paws he had no way of knowing. Utterly perplexed, he stopped, muscles pulling taunt beneath his skin as he tried to, futility, discern who and what he'd bumped into.

He had no idea to know what he'd head butted and thus began to squirm his way back, a rumble of hunger in his belly pushing him to attempt to blindly, in all sense of the word, feel his way back to his feeding place. He had no sense of space or time or how far he'd crawled only that he stepped on something — perhaps a tail or a harmless twig (it was hard to tell) — and stumbled as much as a blind and crawling puppy could stumble, letting out a small wail. He was hungry and he had yet to find a teat. His wails did not cease though he continued to crawl towards what he (and no doubt his parents) could only hope was Kaskara's stomach, nudging his face against one of his siblings before he found the overbearing warmth of his mother's stomach fur. He gummed uselessly at tufts of fur before he sneezed on Kaskara and pushed his face against her side, fumbling for a few moments to latch onto a teat. Yet when he did he began to suckle, the satisfaction instantaneous and his wails ceased as he was otherwise occupied.