Bearclaw Valley to my mother

the caress of her mother's tongue down her spine is the most sublime comfort. her mouth pops off the teat, accompanied by a sigh. she stretches out into the touch, smacking her lips in idle contemplation of what this all means—

what does it mean? her world is so small; her universe miniscule. Avicus and Aventus, the little planets orbiting the sun that is Astara. the presence she has sensed nearby on occasion. . .a distant black hole. (she soon will discover how apt that comparison really is.)

if her purpose is adoration, Avicus is knocking it out of the park. she is content with her life of milk and dreams.

she sniffles and sneezes, a tiny explosion. the dust she cannot see rises around her muzzle, wisping into the air. snuffling, she presses her nose into the crook of one of her mother's forelegs, seeking shelter from the new sensation.