Hushed Willows someone (holy) insisted

The future troll and philanthropist arrived in style: inside a stretchy bubble full of goo. When it burst, his teeny paws thrust into the air and his mouth opened in an o, drawing in his first breath. Rather than cry out like most newborn whelps were wont to do, little Tambourine gave a merry little peep and began to wriggle. He was a lively one, right from the very first, as if to demonstrate to his distraught mother that he was better than his deadbeat brother.

He allowed himself to be nudged by something firm but warm, into something soft and even warmer. The wolf pup kneaded his mother's breast, mashing his face into the velvety softness of it, and instinctively opened his gummy mouth to suck in the bud of flesh he felt poking him in the forehead. Thick, rich milk poured into him and Tambourine squeaked happily without unlatching, causing him to blow bubbles that leaked out of either side of his tiny mouth.

When his belly was full, he let go with a grunt and began squirming in place, just for something to do. His fur was still damp and stuck up in spiky tufts in places. He found he still craved the comfort of suckling, despite his fullness. The milk drunk puppy quickly discovered comfort in the form of his own right forepaw, which he thrust into his mouth and sucked contentedly until he fell fast asleep.