Boartusk Heights [b] te sueño despierta

Nymphora came later, beat to the punch by a sister cloaked in golden drapery. Perhaps she'd even been the one to boot her out.

Oh second daughter, how will you cope?

But this one... This one did not come without a fight, and when she did roll onto the cushioned bed of moss, finally spurred from the grasp of her mother's womb, Nymphora came out with much fuss spewed to the air around her. She whined and squealed, as much as tiny lungs would allow her to. Quiet would only come when she would instinctively reach out for her mother, beginning her next battle, that of finding a teat to latch onto. 

Hues of ash stained her peachy hide, impurities starkly noticed as she lays, or rather, rolls and flails alongside her moonlit sisters, making the desperate fight for milk all the much harder for the others. 

Fresh into the world, Nymphora was born, and her namesake offered with naught but a mere glance and idle touch. 

Fresh into the world, this one screamed

Look at me.