Sun Mote Copse Basket

Bronco, on the other hand, was comfortable- until he wasn't. He'd gotten used to this other thing that moved and jostled him, and he'd do the same back to it, but for the most part, the two of them had shared their confimed space quite peacefully. It was nice, being so close, so swaddled in warmth and comfort. But all too soon that warmth and comfort became too close, and far too constricted. It happened over and over, this feeling of being moved and squeezed- but not by the other thing that had legs and paws like him....No, their landlord was the one doing the squeezing. And there was really nothing he could do but simply go with the flow- and that was to be born. 

The first peal of air into his lungs made him gasp and cough and wail, but as soon as he got used to it, it wasn't so bad. He hardly even had to think about it. He nosed about making little grunting noises, being nudged this way and that until his mewling mouth found something to latch onto- right alongside his womb-buddy, where he fell quiet. He was safe and warm and secure- and quieted when he got his first meal.