Hideaway Strath the teeth of the eye of a storm

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Warm and wet. A combination he will come to loathe quickly in his infancy. He notices when someone latches their mouth onto his ear in a way that isn’t dissimilar to how he had suckled his own toes not too long ago. It is already a distant memory quickly fading. He is more preoccupied by the sibling who is attacking his ear with their warm mouth and leaving dribbles of baby saliva clinging to his ear. He lets out a low huff and a partial whine, part squeak of displeasure. He continues his cries about being stuck in the puddle of his own creation, too, between his half-hearted protests about having his ear assaulted — because he has not yet forgotten that he'd peed himself. He is startled by the sudden absence of the sibling he would come to know as Molly as she is lifted away and tended to. Hey! He let out the loudest cry yet — thankfully he is blissfully deaf and feels only vibrations which are utterly inconsequential to him — because he does not like being ignored. Molly munching his ear the winter’s bane can easily deal with. It left his ear slick with her saliva and a bit chilled as the air of the den touches it but being covered in his own urine is worse. Infinitely worse.

He is grasped by the scruff and lifted from the wet spot on the earthen floor of the Fearghal birthing den. He curls into himself instinctively, comforted by the feel of teeth upon his scruff. A soft, babyish coo leaves his lips as the ground remains a forgotten about concept until he is placed back upon it and feels it beneath him once more. There is a new warmth washing over him and he lets out a soft mew knowing that it is not mama and trying to process how he felt about it. He wasn’t so sure he liked it. But he wasn’t so sure he hated it either. The sensation of a tongue smoothing over his pelage as he is bathed causes him to squirm; but he is unable to do much else other than squirm (and go no where, mind) and so he is left to endure the torture of his bath albeit not without minimal complaining. As it is, Roarke does not realize that he has likely subjected his uncle Dagfinn to an even worse torture than bath time — of being responsible for cleaning urine off of him. A fact that he has already forgotten.

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