Noctisardor Bypass expectorate the snakes and water down the whiskey

And she came last, like a late flower of spring, slipping delayed from her mother with a wild cry. Not soft as a daisy, or lily of the field, but like a rose, wrapped up in soft down and armed with hidden thistles.

And then, she was quiet -- mostly so. Soft gurgling spilled from her lips as she worked her way to suckle alongside her sisters and brother, shoving at those who got in her way with the thrust of a paw.

Last, but not least. A warrior had to have her fill.