Ouroboros Spine song of the stars

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Lótë paused in the process of laying the damp skins upon the small boulders near her family's den, having washed them to purge the scent of her festered wound from the pelts lest they draw the spirits that fed on illness and death. Her buckskin ears flew forward alertly, eyes widening in alarm to hear her child calling out in a stricken tone. 

She breathed a small sigh of relief to see Inkalorë was, mostly, unharmed as they limped to her side. Concern still lingered in the fretful set of her lips, as she examined the paw that was thrust towards her. "Alright, it's alright," she soothed quietly as she sniffed the star pup's fleshy pawpads over. 

"It's a splinter, love," she explained, meeting Ink's argent gaze reassuringly. Nudging the golden fledgling to lay down, she murmured, "It will hurt to get it out but only a little bit." 

She laid down next to Inkalorë, for better access and ease, and took her thirdborn's paw between her own. Bending, she nibbled at the wound lightly - until the white strip of frayed skin over the puncture had come free. She used her teeth and tongue to suck the splinter out of his palm before spitting it aside. 

Rasping her tongue over the small wound left behind, she hoped to soothe the hurt she might've instilled. "There, all better," she smiled warmly as she pressed a last kiss to her child's paw and pulled back to examine the golden youngling.

"Sometimes the skin over a splinter must be chewed off. And sometimes the splinter is too small to grasp with your teeth. You will have to suck it out of the wound, or chew it out like you might chew a flea," she instructed, before dipping to nibble at their ears playfully in demonstration, hoping to cheer them up.