Hushed Willows someone (holy) insisted

She felt the pinch as he latched on and was instantly uncomfortable, but also too tired to really do anything about it. Her desire to see this child survive past these dangerous initial stages was too strong anyway. Tavi watched him for some time. He suckled and grew fat with milk, then seemed to fall asleep; his breathing rhythmic and mesmerizing. Eventually her attention drifted back towards the other son — the one that didn't make it — and with a subtle turn of her head she watched his lifeless form. The dust of the cave had settled across his ventral side. Where she had tried to clean his face and bring life to him, there was soil and bits of rock stuck in the fine hairs of his face. Tavi wondered what that face could grow in to if given the chance. Would he have looked like Reek, or like her? Would his eyes have transitioned beyond the baby blue that hid behind those closed lids?

She was weeping again. Tavi's face felt warm and flush, made more obvious to her by the chill creeping through the air; beneath her face the cave floor was dotted with moisture. The crack in the ceiling just above her let in enough light so that she could see some tawny tones to the dead boy's potato-body, and many dark hairs. Even at this stage there were tiny differences to him. Without really thinking about it, Tavi let out a long whine, and as the sound filled the spacious offshoot of the Crook, it turned in to a low summons for @Warbone, then in to something entirely different — a melancholic note that she held until her breath ran out. A dirge for the son she never knew.