Neverwinter Forest blowin’ off my mom, i don’t wanna go home

Two days old, and confronted with so much already. The moments after his birth had been filled with more of that faraway noise, that seemed to come through volumes of water before reaching the very foundations of the sense. His hearing was practically nothing, his vision still wholly untouched. Taste and touch were what guided him, and all he knew was that he was happy to be carried in daddy's jaws by the downy nape of his neck. 

The moment he was placed down onto the freezing ground was rather disturbing to him. If only he could scream or cry, beg to be held again, to be encased in warmth and home. But he could do little except whimper, the smallest little squeaks of noise, barely audible from his tiny throat. And touch! He could feel- so he crawls forward with tiny wiggles. If he had not been noticed before, surely he was hard to miss now.