Thunder Dome May Strong Arms Hold You

A child, born of a squall’s image, took his first sips of air.

His pelt was the color of rainclouds. A dark cape wrapped around his back like rolling thunder. A flash of white. Lightening.

A cry announced his arrival. Granite. The child writhed and wriggled vigorously – a strong and healthy babe for the newly founded pack – against his siblings. Then, soothed by his Mother’s tender care, the youngling latched and drank his first meal on Earth.