Bearclaw Valley When will you realize Vienne waits for you

The final babe was born late.

At least when compared to their siblings. Perhaps it had trouble finding it's way, or perhaps they simply refused to follow instructions. The flail of their limbs in heavy punches and lofty kicks seemed to indicate the latter.

It was neither fire nor ice that the babe was born into. It was both, or maybe something in between. This was not noticed as much as the change in pressure. Previously confined to a limited cradle, now they lay free of limitations in this world. Well, as unlimited as a newborn could be.

Newly born, their first gasp turned into a fierce roar. With their cry came the first binding to life. Their instinct. Following this internal urge (with some well placed assistance), the pale babe crawled to their mother's side. Paws churning to make its claim within the swell of siblings. With a fight, the child found its place and began to nurse.