Lion Head Mesa everybody loves you, baby [m]

The laborious breaths of Toula had given life to the young figure that emerged from her swollen body.

Gleaming and moist, like a glint of golden treasure, like light through a stained-glass window. The world seemed to hold still, hold its breath, and waited as the child squirmed and his mother’s kisses washed him clean. Only darkness was known to him. Only darkness and that familiar bond of family.

Instinct pushed his tiny paws in circles. The effort of attempting to move, feeling the freedom of the world without the touch of his siblings or the confines of his mother’s womb.

Den was alive.

Den was well.

The newborn was tucked close to Toula. He buried his snout into her plush coat, seeking sustenance with parted lips.