Lost Creek Hollow i am pulsing the blood in your veins.

Too much Star Wars, I have watched.

If there was a disturbance in the force, Larkspur hadn't dug deep enough into her feelings to notice it. She alternated nursing and whining, her little mouth working hard at her mother's teat. Eyes still closed, ears folded up, her head bobbed in an internalized rhythm of feasting, and she continued until her stomach was softly plumped up with the milk.

Her tongue pushed off against the nipple, and she was free from the tantalizing spell of food. She struggled her paws against the warm, fleshy tummy of her mom trying desperately to find a cozy spot in all of this newness. In her desperation came exhaustion though, and comfortable or not, Larkspur's motions stilled to signify her entrance into sleep.