Heron Lake Plateau [m] your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

Fig's world tumbled around one last time. Well, one last time for a little while anyway. By the end of the wild ride, the boy was just about ready to give up on this whole damn place. He was resigned to being a bitter, angry old man by the time he was two days old. He would spend his life giving his parents hell for the ten minutes of shit they'd put him through early on. It was the circle of life, and Fig was ready to be a real pill about it.

But then, something warm. Something... small. Smaller than him. But cozy, and familiar. Fig squirmed as near as he could to the other little puppy bean - his sister. The one thing in this world that life had been crueler to, that was tinier than even him.

Fig quieted his grumbles as he wriggled right up against Fenn, found a nip and began to suckle his fill. He went uninterrupted this time, and there was only one thing different to him about this round than the last. He guessed then that this was just going to be how it was going to be. Alright then.