Nova Peak dearly

She's moon.

The first breath was a cry. A howling that erupted from her chest, alive. 

I am here is the first sound of a child. Maybe it is their first victory, living. It is all she wants, and all she ever would. Squirming in the hold of a frantic father, moving ears too small to hear and a head too heavy to lift.

Mitoge of Winsook wanted to live.

The first scent was taken, following the nose to a figure so powerful that they could hold her featherlight. In the arms of a father, the greatest love. In the arms of a mother, the greatest protector. 

Crying, calling so loud that she could scarcely find mother's belly alone. It was will that crawled her through the pooling blood, blindness to know not what it was. She was ravenous, eating– An insatiable hunger that held onto mother with both front feet, back legs slipping through rushing crimson to move impossibly closer to a latched teet.

There was Nowkē. She heard him. He was wonderful. A sister, Chipeta. Mitoge thought she was wonderful too, and weren't all the voices in that small winter nook? A fourth, unmoving. She did not understand why they were still. 

At the time, she wondered if they were scared. They did not need to be.

From then on, love unbound.

That day, she knew she would remember all of them until death did her part, forever.
Hello.
Goodbye.