Sunspire Mountains macrotus

Malrok did not know his name yet, but he would learn it in time. The warm, milk-giving entity that was his mother pulled away from them, and Malrok snuggled close with his brothers. He knew the routine now. When she left, he would squeeze himself as close as possible to his siblings, using them for warmth just as they used him. When she returned, they would awaken, and then they would fight to eat. Well, "fighting," was a rather loose term for what their little paws did to one another. One day, though, they would scrap amongst each other and leave bruises and cuts.

The mother returned, and with her, milk. But she did not position herself as closely this time. Malrok's little instinctual brain was puzzled, but he did not cry out. It was a challenge, and one that he was eager to overcome. His tiny, rounded body was pushed along at an agonizingly slow speed as he made his way toward the source of nourishment. If his brothers had started making their way in the same direction, he did not know it.