Ankyra Sound as your heart measured in mountains, fell and climbed

please use your inside voice this is the maternity ward  

The first of firsts, he was aware of the squeezing sensation of a contraction. He felt his shoulders forced down as the muscles cushioning him thrust his existence into propulsion, then there was a thin slip of cool air and the perception of a cold nose's violation, toggling with his factory settings (as one does to get familiar with the controls in a new game). 

When Lusca motioned to take him into the glove of her muzzle, Lycaon hoisted up his noddling head and bleated mightily, a sound effect his mother would find him to be particularly stingy with, reserving its use only for the most indignant of emotions.  He grunted and wriggled and acted in a generally user-unfriendly manner during the transplant of his body from the ground onto the path of a tongue's nitpicking lash, at length washing him clean of birth's detritus.

Fortunately for the boy, Lusca's attention rarely remained on him alone for long, so when she shifted tasks to attend his siblings, Lycaon blindly scooted under the archway of her elbows, latching his gums around the first mammiliform shape they could find: a toe -- quite south of his internal gps's set destination.