Blackfeather Woods tonight, we are young

There was little in this world, as of now, but her mother, and her siblings, the dark and quiet. Ears were sealed, as were eyes, and no sight nor hearing was yet known to the girl.  She was, at this point, quite average. Dirty, round, occasionally loud, and frankly not very interesting. She had not yet discovered much other than the two other blobs and the warm lump. And the cold. She had rolled away, hours ago, while her mother slept, and such a horrible feeling had come over her. But her mother had woken, nudging her back into place, and the warmth had filled her again. Yet, what remained was a fear, a primal one, of the cold. 

But now she was warm, and full, and awake, and her memories of the short-lived event already faded. She let out a small, content sound, rolling into one of her siblings, landing on her back with her paws flailing as if in slow motions above her.