Stone Circle so i'll follow the birdsong

1 post wonder

Svalinn had learned to sleep in the discordant sway of his family's arduous travel. It was only when on solid ground did he begin to stir, and it was always in a sort of grubby, feverish race to find the underside of one large-breasted Caiaphas. By this point his eyes had already opened, but it would be weeks still before those filmy puppy blues would be for more than just show; and even then it wasn't guaranteed that he'd notice the misguided blame being thrown his way like daggers. For now he cared only for his next fix, despite having received some seriously stepped-on shit recently.

Hunger and stress had turned mother's milk bitter to his sensitive taste, but it meant that he was only getting the bare essentials, and her dedication to keeping him alive was making for a hard-pact foundation. He had found also in their grief-stricken journey that whining got him nothing— maybe even less of what he wanted— so it was with quiet squeaks of determination that he snaked his way towards his surrogate's belly.

Before he could discover his present task to be a mountainous impossibility (for you see: this seacow was standing and not prone for milking), Svalinn found himself scooped up once more and rendered still by a feeling of powerlessness as the troupe moved on from a dashed dream of salvation.