birth

Swift was decidedly reluctant to leave the comfort of what he knew, and so was the last to be born. When his mother had finished cleaning him, and his tiny lungs sucked in their first breath, the air was expelled in a steady rrrrrrr... not unlike the hum of a distant engine. It trailed off into a higher pitch, a protesting squeak as his mother's nose nudged him toward where he ought to be, and where his siblings already where. But young Swift had a promise to make, and his slowly he wriggled and crawled, his stubby limbs hauling him over his brothers and sister, past the nipples he instinctively sought, until he rolled and tumbled down his mother's back with a second protesting squeak as he landed clumsily on the den floor. Another steady rrrrrrr... sounded.

His promise was this: he would keep them busy and on their toes.