Hideaway Strath if you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow

Sirius was ill. The journey had taken a terrible toll on his little body, and he could no longer hold his head up or roll over or explore. He could hardly keep his eyes open as he laid in the warm fold of his family, shivering from a cold that would not leave him. The more he shivered, the more exhausted he became, until there was nothing but aching and chill over his body, and he could no longer keep his tiny mouth from piping a pitiful sound.

Help me, he said to his mother. Please, make it go away. I am hurting, make it stop. More meaningless whimpers escaped him as he wiggled toward his mother's side, too tired to toddle toward her as he'd been learning to do so well. All he could do now was beg.