The Sentinels You gave me nothing, now it's all I got

WHEW it has been a while! Hello, Family! (I'm going to go ahead and make Wraen the last born girl; if the order has already been decided let me know and I'll correct it!)

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All was still. And then it wasn't.
 
Pushing, pulling, and squeezing...being born marked itself as the first time that fear blossomed in her tender heart. Her environment became unbearably smaller; those she shared it with jostling for position by beating upon her with their infant paws. No discernible sounds...only the orchestra of her host's insides while timely contractions ejected the little parasites into their new world. There was a great rush. She was stretching too long! She couldn't move!
 
And then suddenly she was born.
 
Air married with virgin lungs and she gave a great, mewling cry as the pain of one's first breath almost took it away. Another followed. And another. A velvet tongue mused her dark fur as she was cleaned; the sensation of it was preferable to the bite of chill beyond her Mother's body.
 
Wraen turned and found the teat of her birth giver for the first time. She drank deeply for the first time. And for the first time that fresh fear abated itself and was replaced with a sense of peace.
 
All was well.