As wild as it had been to be forced out of the womb and into the open world, Lucy was coming to realize that life was not so bad. Aside from the rogue limb that would swat at her face, or the soft gums of her brother or sister gnawing on her body, the inky Blackthorn had quite the cushy life. She was permitted to sleep for long hours of the day and night. There was a plush stomach that she could nuzzle into when she grew tired or cold – conveniently enough, this stomach also provided her with sustenance.
 
Enjoying the array of motion that her little limbs were capable of, the young blob would find herself absently swinging her arms around until they slapped against one of her siblings, or against her mother. Once this happened several times in a row, Lucy opted to the taste-test game.
 
Seeing as her sense of taste and touch were the strongest senses that she possessed in her ripe age, the inky youth made it a goal to wobble around near her mother’s belly and put as many things in her mouth as was possible. On that very day, it happened to be a small clump of fur that caused her to gag, a piece of bedding… that also caused her to gag. As well as her sister’s tail. Surprisingly enough, this also caused her to gag.

So far there was only a small list of things that were actually good to put in her mouth, and for this she wasn’t too pleased. It was difficult to find things when her life consisted of a quiet darkness, however. The inky babe had found enough ways to cause trouble with her limited resources; imagine what she would be like when she could form her own sentences and truly make her own choices.
 
The little pup was not yet aware of the stark difference in appearance that she had in comparison with the rest of her family. Her brother and sister were identical, but she was quite literally the black sheep. While her mother pondered on where Lucy had miraculously come from, the little ink-spot could feel her voice from over her head. Lifting up her stubby muzzle just as her mother was leaning in to sniff her, Lucy could feel her nose lightly boop into the cold wet of Finley’s. With a little shudder, the pup wiggled something fierce before calming down.
 
Not long after, her father found his way into the den and made himself comfortable across from Finley. As he reached out with his paw to poke at Lucy, the little ink-spot parted her mouth and emitted a very faint little ”peeep”.

Had the girl known, she would have found herself greatly offended that her mother could not recall her name. The birthing had been a frightening experience for the Blackthorn family, and the ink-spot remained blissfully unaware of how close she had come to losing Finley. As luck would have it, though, someone had been smiling on their little family that day. All were healthy and beautiful in their new birth, and they had a support system behind them that would allow them to grow into wonderful individuals.
 
But Lucy would give them a run for their money first.
 
After having her father’s paw pulled away from her tiny body, she had become quite curious as to how it had gotten there in the first place. Her blindness had allowed for very little discovery to occur, but the dark child had done well with her limited resources. In a valiant effort to regain her father’s limb, the ink-spot weebled and wobbled her little body in the direction of Elwood. Her head bobbed about in her attempts and she squeaked determinedly.

The soot-spot’s journey had been cut short by the great sweeping of her father’s paw as he wrapped his limb around her and scooted her toward him. Once the little girl was planted firmly between his legs, her head wobbled around dizzily and she breathed a quiet little huff of air out of her mouth. A gentle kiss seemed to come from above, and so the tiny spot of ink pointed her nose upwards in surprise at the caress. The warmth of her father was far different from that of her mother, but she found it comforting all the same. Scooting herself forward just slightly so that her tiny little black hairs could be tickled by the thick tufts of grey fur on her father’s chest, the girl tried to nestle into his arm but could not find comfort there.
 
Arching her head back upward to face her dad in hopes that he might be able to make the bedding underneath her – which was no more than dirt and small rocks – more comfortable, she felt the wet of his nose touch to her own. A surprised little peeping noise was emitted from her mouth, but she did not back down from this newly discovered thing. Instead, she tried to nuzzle into his arm once more to see if he would return his nose and press it against her again.

In spite of her lack of hearing, sight, and speech, the girl found the touch of her father to be quite soothing for her. There was something strange about the way she could feel his words through his chest, though she did not know that he was speaking them. It acted as a sort of lullaby for the girl and while her parents continued to talk to each other – the twins carefully tucked against Finley – Lucy found herself being lulled into a warm slumber. The gentle kiss from her father was all that it took for the soot-ball to find her heavy eyes closing and her tiny frame tucked against his lengthy limbs and chest. His tufts of fur tickled against her, but she did not make an effort to move away from them. The little girl feared that if she did, she would not be able to feel his voice through his chest.
 
Being so small allowed for her to nap when she wished, and though she would have liked to have felt the vibrations a while longer, her eyes were protestant and were demanding that she sleep. So she buried herself into the warmth of her father and breathed one last sigh before she drifted away into a very deep slumber.