Stavanger Bay They are growing like weeds

If the gift of sight had been an adjustment, so too had her hearing. She spent her time keeping quiet, mostly, listening and watching and saying (or attempting to say) very little. But she watched well, keen eyes fixed on any movement and her ears open for that which she still did not understand. Now she knew that the vibrations she had heard (but could not remember) were clear sounds, and one day she would understand them to be words.

She had been asleep when her mother moved, but stirred under the touch of her mother's tongue. Ragna squirmed, stretching out graceless limbs, and cracked her eyes open to see what had disturbed her. At the sight of her mother's retreating form she cried out, her tongue tripping over syllables while she tripped over her ungainly paws. She bubbled happily, trying to catch her mother's attention. Where her mother was, food could often be found, after all. And if not food, then warmth or entertainment or a myriad of other creature comforts.