Swiftcurrent Creek morgan le fay

At the pressure upon him, the suckling stopped.

His lips loosed, his head lolled back.

The milk streamed from her nipple down in a rivulet through her belly fur.

He couldn't see or smell it;

But the lack of sustenance struck him like a lightning bolt.

He latched back furiously, taking her in with alacrity, cheeks sucked in with the effort. Even his little tail moved back and forth, a swift metronome. His tiny body vibrated. He feasted.