Neverwinter Forest Is crua a cheannaíonn an droim an bolg.

The nothingness around her was comforting. It was colder, but she didn't mind that. The whole den was warmed by the many bodies inside, and the sunlight filtering in from outside, so there was no real chill to be held in her bones. She waddled and wandered, insistent that the world know of the travesty that was her mother's gurgling stomach; and when her father wedged himself inside, she peered up at him. He was only a foggy smudge to her new eyes, but she saw the darkness of his mouth moving, and heard the jumbled noises he was making, and Eimear got a little louder. Once she ws nearer to him she tried to hobble her way as close as she could, and continued to babble. She managed to lift up on her tiny hind legs, but only for a second - and was falling, rolling, sprawling out, within the next few. The disturbed dust drifted around her while she lay belly-up like a turtle, murmuring her oohs and awws when the light beamed across her face.