The Sentinels and witch hearts

the youngest mayfair contented herself at her mothers bare belly, bare, pink pads kneading as she did so. by now, she was used to brief absences from her sister; but she still mourned with quiet, anxious whimpers the first few moments. her suckling paused and she stilled as something pressed against her crown. she had only the capacity to do this, and she lay there rigidly. it was a testament to how unsure she was of any measure of change... but as he lingered, it was decided this was a change she abided by. she gurgled gayly, and latched again upon The Giver.