Swiftcurrent Creek Instant Crush

Being evicted from her mother's womb was not an entirely enjoyable experience. She tried to move – to go back into that warmth – but she found the salving sensation of her mother's tongue leaving her pliant. Pliant enough to be moved to her mother's teat, which she viciously took into her mostly toothless mouth and began imbibing her mother's saccharine milk. Being the firstborn of a litter had some advantages. She got to pick her teat of choice and to nurse without intermission!

Of course, once her other siblings started to arrive, it was an altogether different story. Jökull did not like the jostling bodies at her sides, but she stood her ground and nursed with a vengeance. Mine. Being deaf and blind, there was not much she could do to identify her brothers and sisters. Her sense of smell had some developing to do, among other things. Yet blood did not matter, her mind too formative and pitiless for such topics. All that did know for certain was the warmed, sweet taste of her dam's nourishment sliding down her throat in ravening clumps.

Sibling and parent alike would be subject to her infantile tyranny in weeks to come. Because she is a warrior princess, and nothing will stand in her way. She establishes this fact with slumbrous rumbles and petty thrusts of her plump body, aiming to exact her say-so through postnatal physicality. She has some growing to do. Until then, she is just biding her time...She had her father's bullheadedness and her mother's fierceness to thank for such spontaneous ideas (or were they just imaginings?).

Fresh from the womb and Jökull was ready to leave her mark on this world, for better or for worse. But now? Now she was stringent, irate at her mother's jostling body, coming to a stand so as to bring the youngest into this world. Vibrations – outcries for the return of Tuwawi's milk and heat – brought forth a screaky grumble from Jökull. Tuwawi is an attentive mother, returning soon enough. The argent Sveijarn went back to nursing with a vengeance; worrying her mother's teat with ineffective jowls. Sleep would threaten to overtake her, yet a rush of gelidity coursed through her downy fur. Foreign...but comforting all the same. Who cast a loving shadow over her brothers and sister? She wished to know, but the milk was so good and warm and the northern wind could wait.