Deepwood Weald I am in Misery

Struggle - he'd know it well. His entry into the world would be the most harrowing of the three, and it was with a wail of protest that he announced his arrival. Why was it cold? Where was the serenity he'd enjoyed up until now?

It was unfairly wrenched away, and now he felt heavy, exhausted, frigid... thoroughly uncomfortable. The lad attempted to lift his skull, thrash his limbs - anything. But he was still far too new, too weak for his muscles to entertain the wishes of his brain. His complaints were soon answered as he was bathed in warmth, alleviating some of the icy chill that threatened to penetrate him to his very bones. Then he was moved against something warm and soothing, and the smell was so enticing. Within moments, he was suckling eagerly beside his siblings, contentment pouring over him like water.

Perhaps it wasn't all bad.