Bearclaw Valley It's like an inn, with girls.

She wanted to scream and shriek and cry, but instead Nanook continued to whimper, quieter now, yet no less fervent than her louder wails. Like this would do any better. But not before long, the wet clasp that often brought her back to her milk-giver's teats secured her again. Nanook's stomach lurch and she yelped, spilling a gurgle of vomit across the cold ground as it disappeared from beneath her. The silver trickster flailed her paws in the air and continued to struggle even after her toes met the full warmth of her milk-giver's fur.

Nanook shoved herself between the furry bodies at her sides and roughed away something blocking her milk-giver's teat, latching onto the food-giver herself. The thing beside her squirmed, but Nanook held on tightly and gave the thing a kick. She'd gone too long without her milk, and this food-giver would have been hers if the furry thing hadn't taken her away from it. Hers, and hers alone. It didn't matter that no else seemed to understand that. It only mattered that she did.

The rough surface rubbed her fur again, but as much as she struggled away, she couldn't tuck out of the wet tongue's reach without giving up the teat - her teat. So she gurgled a protest in her throat and withstood the washing with a squirm. Soon enough, the wetness left her, and she quieted her struggle, easing into a gentle suckle for once in her short, short life.