Dragoncrest Cliffs Widowmaker

Despite being so small and fragile, Artaax recovered quickly from his brief catapult. Nothing hurt and he felt soothed by the abundance of affection he received from his mothers.  The warm, moist texture of their tongues against his tiny body pacified any trace of discomfort he might have felt from his rough landing.
 
In the dark recesses of his developing mind, he was able to begin distinguishing between the two scents of his parents. Wildfire’s was linked to his instinctual drive to nurse and seek comfort, and while Thuringwethil’s did not contain any trace of milk, it was still recognized as something good.
 
His squirms became more deliberate as he shuffled along his nomi’s forelimbs, ceasing only as the infant’s nose connected with one of the Heda’s large paws. A curious mewl was issued before Artaax began gumming away mindlessly on one of the dark toes.