Lost Creek Hollow like the first bird.

And cries of protest there were. Her mother's teat had been pulled straight out of her pursed mouth and into the cold air so suddenly milk gushed down Larkspur's chin. Her tongue was conflicted, lashing out to grab what was spilled but wanting to make air for the long cries that emitted from her throat. She had learned fast already that if she made noise and protest and cries, she would definitely get the attention that she deserved. 

Light had begin to filter to the beady black eyes of the newborn, and so she was able to distinguish how to follow the missing source of nutrients. Her little brain working overtime, she figured a very complex algorithm that forced her little body to squirm forward, using her front legs to army crawl towards the nipples. Furthermore, she was learning fast how to multi-task, because as she worked she whined, and whined loudly.

Opening her mouth, she pushed forward to latch back on, letting her paws rest on her mother's warm skin.