Sawtooth Spire I'm giving you gold here, people.

One of the small warm things left him. But it was quickly returned, as always. The large thing moved, leaving the four newborns to keep each other warm. Malrok did not protest any of this, seeing as he was drifting in and out of sleep. He squeezed himself as close to his brothers as was physically possible, instinct telling him this was the only way to stay warm enough to stay alive. He looked most like the brother he had followed out of the womb, though he lacked the white markings. In time, they would look worlds apart from one another.

A gurgling in his stomach made him whimper and begin to fuss, flailing limbs clearly unhappy. What goes in, must come out. So went the saying he had not yet learned. Only mother could fix this uncomfortable sensation, but she was nowhere near.