Bearclaw Valley 'Cause you might enjoy some madness for a while

avalita bearclaw, first of four.
the child flopped from the canal rather obscenely, a grim and ugly sight marked by blood and birth and mucus. perhaps this was natural, a rite of passage for all living things, and especially those who carry her surname. she is no more than a tiny black clump of cells, restless and rather cranky already, as it was. when her soft little head is freed from the flesh-sac which binds her, she greets her family with a shrieking, wavering mewl which surely pierced the eardrums of anyone in the remote vicinity. it was this singular rebellious cry which was her first mark upon the world, however short and fleeting her time on this earth may inevitably be.
as was the way of the world, as was the way of those whose bodies churned to nothing in the very soil which now provided her with her own waking.
being a clueless neonate, she is disoriented as she mindlessly searches for the previously cherished warmth which seems to have rudely abandoned her against her will. but, seeing as how she has first choice of boob to latch onto, she is in no rush. she takes her time figuring out what it is she is feeling beneath her feet and against her face, and how the hell to properly suck in air through her nose and out through her mouth.
but, as was driven by instinct, avalita settles in due time, happily suckling away. her tiny paws press up against her mother's stomach in cruel reminder that she is, in fact, here, and plans on making the most of her newly gifted consciousness.